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txhxary  of  Che  t:heolo0(cal  Seminary 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

"Pv.^  T^stpte   of   the 
BX    9178    .B62    L5  x 

Black,    Hugh,    b.    1868. 
Listening    to   God  i 


Sermons 


LISTENING    TO    GOD 


By    HUGH    BLACK,   M.A. 


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LISTENING  TO 


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BY 
HUGH    'black 

JESUP    PROFESSOR     OF    PRACTICAL    THEOLOGY 
UNION    THEOLOGICAL    SEMINARY,    NEW    YORK 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming  H.   Revell   Company 

London        and        Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 

Second  Edition 


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TO 

THE  CONGREGATION  OF 

ST.  GEORGES  UNITED  FREE  CHURCH 

EDINBURGH 

IN  flAPPy  MEMORY  OF 
TEN  TEARS  MINISTRY 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

LISTENING  TO  GOD 11 

I  -will  incline  mine  ear  to  a  parable, — Psalm  xlix.  4. 

II 

THE  MISSING  OP  WISDOM 21 

He  that  misseth  me  wrongeth  his  own  soul  :  all  they 
that  hate  me  love  death. — Pkovekbs  viii.  3(>. 

Ill 
THE  REINCARNATION  OF  CHRIST    ....      32 

Until  Christ  be  formed  in  you. — Galatians  iv.  19. 

IV 

LOT'S  CHOICE 43 

Then  Lot  chose  him  all  the  plain  of  Jordan. — Genesis 
xiii.  11. 

V 
COMFORT  IN  TEMPTATION 54 

There  hath  no  temptation  taken  you  but  such  as  is  com- 
mon to  man. — 1  Cokinthians  x.  13. 

VI 

THE  AUTHORITY  OF  THE  WILL        ....      65 
Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might  have  life. — St. 
John  v.  40. 

7 


8  CONTENTS 

VII 

FAGK 

THE  LAW  SET  TO  MUSIC 77 

Thy  statutes  have  been  my  songs  in  the  house  of  my 
pilgrimage.— Psalm  cxix.  54. 

VIII 
THE  TEMPTATION  OF  DISTANCE      ....      87 
The  eyes  of  a  fool  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. — Prov- 
erbs xvii.  24. 

IX 

REPENTANCE 99 

They  went  out,  and  preached  that  men  should  repent. — 
St.  Mark  vi,  12. 

X 

THE  PENALTY  OF  HATE Ill 

All  this  availeth  me  nothing,  so  long  as  I  see  Mordecai 
the  Jew  sitting  at  the  king's  gate. — Esther  v.  13. 

XI 

THE  LAW  OF  ENVIRONMENT 123 

Their  word  will  eat  as  doth  a  gangrene.— 2  Timothy 
ii.  17. 

XII 

REVERSAL  OF  JUDGMENT 133 

Many  that  are  first  shall  be  last ;  and  the  last  shall  be 
first. — St.  Matthew  xix.  30. 

XIII 
THE  COURAGE  OF  CONSECRATION  .        .        .144 

Should  such  a  man  as  I  flee  ?— Nehemiah  vi.  11. 

XIV 

HAUGHTY  EYES 156 

A  thing  the  Lord  hates,  yea,  is  an  abomination  to  Him, 
haughty  eyes. — Pkovekbs  vi.  17. 


CONTENTS  9 

XV 

PAGE 

THE  GLORY  OF   LOVING-KINDNESS  :   A  MEDITA- 
TION AT  COMMUNION 166 

I  beseech  Thee,  shew  mo  Thy  glory.  And  He  said,  I 
will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee. — 
Exodus  xxxiii.  18. 

XVI 
THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST:    A    COMMUNION 

SERMON 174 

Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  dost  thou  not 
know  me  ? — St,  Johi«  xiv.  9. 

XVII 

THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  CHANGE 187 

Because  they  have  no  changes,  therefore  they  fear  not 
God.— Psalm  Iv.  19. 

XVIII 

FAITH'S  ILLUSION 198 

These  all  died  in  faith,  not  having  received  the  prom- 
ises, but  having  seen  them  afar  off. — Hebrews  xi. 
13. 

XIX 

STRIFE  VERSUS  LOYE 209 

Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain-glory. — 
Philippians  ii.  3. 

XX 

A  LESSON  IN  TOLERANCE 220 

He  that  is  not  against  us  is  for  us.— St.  Mark  ix.  40. 

XXI 
THE  CLEAVAGE  OF  THE  FAITH        .        .        .        .232 
He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me. — St.  Matthew 
xii.  30. 


10  CONTENTS 

XXII 

PAQE 

THE  WEALTH  OF  NATIONS 244 

I  will  make  a  man  more  precious  than  fine  gold  ;  even 
a  man  than  the  golden  wedge  of  Ophir. — Isaiah 
xiii.  12. 

XXIII 

SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 255 

He  looked  this  way  and  that  way,  and  when  he  saw 
that  there  was  no  man,  he  slew  the  Egyptian,  and 
hid  him  in  the  sand. — Exodus  ii.  12. 

XXIV 
ASKING  AND  GETTING 266 

Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  .shall  find ; 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you. — St.  J^Iat- 
THEW  vii.  7. 

XXV 
THE  HEROISM  OF  ENDURANCE  .        .        .        .277 

If  thou  hast  run  with  the  footmen,  and  they  have 
wearied  thee,  then  how  canst  thou  contend  with 
horses  1  and  though  in  a  land  of  peace  thou  art 
secure,  yet  how  wilt  thou  do  in  the  pride  of  Jordan  ? 
Jekemiau  xii.  5  (R.V.). 

XXVI 

THE  CHARM  OF  GOODNESS 288 

He  that  loveth  pureness  of  heart,  for  the  grace  of  his 
lips  the  king  shall  be  his  friend. — Proverbs  xxii. 
11. 

XXVII 
THE  THINGS  THAT  ALONE  COUNT  .        .        .301 

And  when  He  was  come  near.  He  beheld  the  city,  and 
wept  over  it,  saying.  If  thou  hadst  known,  even 
thou,  at  least  in  this  tliy  day,  the  things  which 
belong  to  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hid  from 
thine  eyes.— St.  Luke  xix.  42. 


LISTENING    TO    GOD 

I  will  incline  mine  ear  to  a  parable. — Psalm  xlix.  4. 

In  this  Psalm  the  subject  is  the  great  and  dark 
problem  of  divine  providence,  the  old  problem  that 
troubled  so  many  Old  Testament  saints,  why  the 
wicked  sometimes  succeed  and  the  righteous  suffer. 
The  Psalmist  tells  us  in  his  introduction  that  he  will 
open  the  dark  saying,  the  riddle,  on  the  harp.  By 
his  poetic  and  spiritual  intuition  he  pierces  through 
the  surface  of  things  to  declare  the  utter  vanity  of 
life  without  God,  no  matter  what  appearance  of  suc- 
cess there  may  be.  He  tells  us  frankly  that  it  is  not 
by  argument  he  arrives  at  this  certitude,  but  by  in- 
spiration. He  is  stating  a  fact  that  must  be,  in  spite 
of  all  seeming  facts  that  contradict  it.  He  has  learned 
this  from  his  own  inner  experience.  His  mouth  is 
going  to  speak  of  wisdom;  but  with  the  beautiful 
figure  of  our  text  he  suggests  the  only  true  attitude 
for  one  who  is  dealing  with  the  great  problem  of 
human  life.     He  does  not  say  that  he  will  open  his 

11 


12  LISTENING    TO    GOD 

mouth  to  speak  a  parable,  but  that  he  will  incline  his 
ear  to  a  parable;  as  if  he  bends  to  hear  and  simply 
repeats  what  he  thus  learns.  The  method  is  intui- 
tion, not  induction.  He  the  Teacher  is  giving  out 
what  he  has  learned.  "I  will  incline  mine  ear,"  as  a 
man  who  listens  to  truth  from  above  that  he  may 
give  it  out  to  others.  He  asks  for  attention  because 
he  himself  has  attended.  He  can  be  God's  inter- 
preter to  others  because  he  himself  has  listened  to 
God.  Through  insight  into  the  true  foundation  of 
life,  he  assumes  the  right  to  proclaim  his  message  to 
all.  He  has  listened  to  the  wisdom  that  is  from 
above,  and  so  has  truth  to  declare.  This  is  the  atti- 
tude of  a  true  Teacher,  that  he  is  a  Learner,  opens 
his  ear  morning  by  morning  to  receive  the  right 
impressions ;  as  Isaiah  says,  "He  wakeneth  mine  ear 
morning  by  morning  to  hear  as  a  learner."  He  who 
is  sent  to  teach  gets  not  the  tongue  of  a  master  but 
the  tongue  of  a  disciple.  The  secret  of  the  golden 
tongue  is  the  open  ear. 

A  great  preacher  used  to  say  that  in  preaching 
the  thing  of  least  importance  was  the  sermon.  I 
suppose  what  he  meant  was  that  it  is  not  what  he 
says  but  himself  that  counts  most.  Not  the  fine 
expressions  and  the  logical  marshalling  of  the 
thoughts,  but  the  spiritual  atmosphere  he  creates, 


LISTENING    TO    GOD  13 

the  indefinable  impression  of  earnestness  and  serious- 
ness and  conviction — this  is  the  great  instrument  of 
persuasion.  You  have  been  awed  and  influenced  by 
speech,  not  one  word  of  which  you  can  remember. 
It  was  not  important  that  you  should  remember  any- 
thing, but  it  was  of  infinite  importance  that  you 
should  be  impressed  by  the  reality  of  the  particular 
truth,  and  most  of  all  assured  of  the  reality  of  the 
spiritual  world.  In  all  prophetic  speech  there  is  a 
subtle  spirit  which  communicates  itself  to  disciples, 
and  which  the  teacher  himself  will  lose  if  he  forgets 
his  true  attitude.  Perhaps  this  explains  some  of  the 
ultimate  failures  in  the  ministry  and  in  all  teachers, 
failures  of  men  who  at  one  time  had  power  and  in- 
fluence and  moved  others.  The  teacher  must  ever 
be  a  learner,  simple  and  humble  and  sincere.  It  is 
not  what  we  say  but  the  spirit  of  our  saying  it.  And 
this  is  true  in  the  final  judgment  not  only  of  speecb 
but  of  all  life.  It  is  not  what  you  do  but  the  spirit 
of  your  doing  it — the  spiritual  qualities  that  lie 
behind  and  colour  every  word  and  action. 

Real  growth  is  far  more  of  a  passive  thing  than 
we  usually  imagine,  the  reception  of  great  influences, 
opening  ourselves  humbly  to  the  forces  that  will 
mould  us.  The  Psalmist  when  he  asks  people  to 
give  ear  to  him  says  as  his  qualification  for  speaking, 


1.4  LISTENING    TO    GOD 

"I  will  incline  mine  ear."  He  must  be  attuned  in 
spirit  before  he  can  open  bis  dark  saying  on  the 
harp  to  any  purpose  and  teach  others  by  his  song. 
This  passive  attitude  is  the  preparation  for  all  true 
activity  and  the  condition  of  all  true  growth.  We 
become  by  attending,  by  inclining  ear  and  heart, 
by  listening,  by  being  open  to  great  formative  in- 
fluences. Wordsworth  tells  how  the  inspiration  of 
IsTature  enters  a  maiden's  heart  and  leaves  its  sweet 
mark  on  every  feature. 

She  shall  lean  her  ear 
In  many  a  secret  place. 
Where  rivulets  dance  their  wayward  round 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 
Shall  pass  into  her  face. 

In  the  higher  reaches  of  all  truth  a  moment  of 
insight  is  of  more  worth  than  a  year  of  laborious 
learning.  The  two  are  not  contradictory;  indeed 
are  usually  found  together,  provided  the  labour  is 
accompanied  by  a  sincere  mind  and  a  humble 
heart.  Certainly  in  religion  no  door  is  opened 
except  to  those  who  bend,  who  wait,  who  incline 
their  ear. 

That  is  why  the  child  is  the  type  of  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven,  the  mind  that  is  open  to  the  daily  lesson, 
that  morning  by  morning  receives  its  portion,  that 


LISTENING    TO    GOD  15 

sweetly  accepts  the  teaching  of  the  Master,  the  life 
that  waits  on  God  patiently  and  appropriates  each 
lesson  humbly,  ever  susceptible  to  divine  influence, 
ever  responsive  to  the  touch  of  God,  ever  obedient 
to  the  voice  of  God — of  such,  not  of  the  proud,  the 
arrogant,  the  self-assertive,  but  of  such  simple,  in- 
quiring, humble  souls,  is  the  Kingdom.  We  think 
sorrowfully  of  the  contrast  between  this  and  our 
common  attitude,  the  pitiful  conceit  that  mars  so 
much  of  our  best  work,  the  self-willed  pride  that 
disfigures  our  lives,  the  poor  ambitions  of  pre-emi- 
nence, the  brazen-throated  assertion  of  our  superior 
claims,  the  loud  calling  of  intellectual  wares  in  the 
market,  the  advertisement  of  capacity  to  instruct. 
The  secret  of  wisdom  and  power  and  knowledge  is  hu- 
mility. The  secret  of  influence  is  simplicity.  We 
learn  to  speak  the  high  language  of  the  soul  as  a 
child  learns.  We  must  be  receptive  and  listen,  and 
repeat  what  we  hear.  "I  will  incline  mine  ear  to  a 
parable,"  catch  the  story  whose  faint  accents  can 
only  be  heard  in  the  silence,  and  then  echo  it  to 
others,  if  perchance  they  too  may  incline  their  ear 
and  listen.  "I  will  hear  what  God  the  Lord  will 
speak,"  says  another  Psalmist.  To  desire  to  hear, 
to  be  willing  to  listen,  to  incline  the  ear,  is  the  first 
step  to  the  great  experience. 


16  LISTENING    TO    GOD 

There  is  a  moment  which  came  to  the  prophets 
and  to  men  called  to  exceptional  work,  a  moment 
when  the  world  is  dissolved,  when  earth  has  faded 
and  heaven  has  opened  and  reveals  the  eternal,  a 
moment  when  in  all  the  universe  there  seems  nothing 
but  God  and  the  human  soul.  That  moment  altered 
the  perspective  of  everything  afterwards;  they  read 
everything  in  the  light  of  that  moment,  and  when 
in  the  future  they  were  brought  up  against  seem- 
ingly impassable  difficulties  and  things  that  seemed 
irreconcilable  with  their  faith,  they  simply  fell  back 
on  God;  for  they  knew  that,  whatever  else  might 
be  false,  that  great  experience  must  be  true.  We 
each  in  our  degree  can  have  something  of  the  same 
assurance,  the  same  certitude;  and  the  method  of 
acquiring  it  is  to  incline  the  ear  and  the  heart. 

It  is  the  old  story,  you  say,  a  plea  for  faith  ?  Yes, 
a  plea  for  faith.  But  be  sure  you  know  what  faith 
is  before  you  dismiss  it  contemptuously.  Faith  is 
not  shutting  the  eyes  to  believe  something  which  is 
not  true.  It  is  opening  them,  opening  eye  and  ear 
and  heart  and  the  whole  nature,  and  submitting 
them  to  that  for  which  they  were  made.  It  is  to 
have  the  ear  of  a  learner,  the  heart  of  a  child,  to 
listen  to  the  Father's  voice.  Faith  is  not  the  accept- 
ance of  propositions,  an  intellectual  apprehension  of 


LISTENING    TO    GOD  17 

truths.  It  is  an  attitude  of  soul,  listening  to  catch 
the  faint  echoes  of  the  eternal  song,  an  attitude  of 
patient  waiting  and  of  eager  desire  to  know  God's  will 
and  way.  It  is  the  temper  of  the  disciple  who  says 
by  his  expectant  attitude,  "I  will  incline  mine  ear." 

The  highest  truths  are  not  reached  by  analysis. 
The  deepest  appeal  is  not  made  to  logic  but  to 
imagination,  not  to  intellect  but  to  heart.  This  is 
true  not  only  in  religion,  but  also  in  everything.  To 
know  and  love  nature  is  a  simpler  and  higher  thing 
than  to  know  the  geology  of  the  rocks  and  the 
chemistry  of  the  trees.  To  know  and  love  flowers 
is  a  simpler  and  higher  thing  than  to  understand 
the  botany  of  flowers.  And  to  know  and  love  Christ 
is  a  simpler  and  higher  thing  than  to  understand 
Christology,  the  theology  of  His  person  and  work. 
Science  can  dissect  and  dissolve  and  analyse,  and 
get  at  many  a  hidden  secret  by  the  way;  but  the 
secret  has  vanished.  The  life  and  meaning  and  vital 
breath  and  flavour  elude  the  microscope.  When 
science  has  done  its  best  or  its  worst,  we  need  the 
poet,  the  prophet,  the  seer,  to  interpret  nature  to 
us,  not  by  analysis  but  by  constructive  imagination. 
"Nature  exists,"  says  George  Macdonald,  "primarily 
for  her  face,  her  look,  her  appeals  to  the  heart  and 
the  imagination,  her  simple  service  to  human  need. 


18  LISTENING    TO    GOD 

and  not  for  the  secrets  to  be  discovered  in  her  and 
turned  to  man's  use.  What  in  the  name  of  God  is 
our  knowledge  of  the  elements  of  the  atmosphere 
to  our  knowledge  of  the  elements  of  Nature  ?  What 
are  its  oxygen,  its  hydrogen,  its  nitrogen,  its  carbonic 
acid,  its  ozone,  and  all  the  possible  rest,  to  the  blow- 
ing of  the  wind  on  our  faces  ?  W^hat  is  the  analysis 
of  water  to  the  babble  of  a  running  stream  ?  .  .  .  I 
w^ould  not  be  supposed  to  depreciate  the  labours  of 
science,  but  I  say  its  discoveries  are  unspeakably  less 
precious  than  the  merest  gifts  of  Nature,  those  which 
from  morning  to  night  we  take  unthinking  from  her 
hands." 

Let  us  not  kill  the  poet  in  us  for  lack  of  listening 
and  looking,  the  poet  that  dies  so  young  in  most  of 
us.  Let  us  cherish  the  passive,  receptive  mood  with 
its  simple  intuitions  and  its  high  inspirations.  We 
do  not  find  the  deep  truths  of  life:  they  find  us. 
Our  part  is  only  to  incline  the  ear  and  open  the 
heart.  As  rain  and  sunshine  and  balmy  air  fertilise 
the  waiting  earth,  gTacious  influences  envelop  our 
soul  if  w^e  are  responsive.  This  is  how  the  contem- 
plative life  breeds  in  men  a  rich  wisdom,  mellower, 
sweeter  than  all  worldly  activities,  however  varied, 
can  achieve.  Surrender  is  the  first  word  and  the 
last  word  in  this  process.     That  surrender  is  faith. 


LISTENING    TO    GOD  19 

It  is  hard  for  human  pride  to  submit,  to  make 
the  surrender.  How  often  it  is  pride  alone  which 
stands  in  the  way  of  communion,  pride  of  intellect, 
pride  of  heart,  or  the  garish  pride  of  life.  We  will 
not  bend :  we  will  not  incline  our  ear :  we  will  not 
open  the  door :  we  go  on  our  self-willed  and  wayward 
path,  and  refuse  to  wait  that  we  may  see  and  hear. 
We  disdain  the  simplicity  of  faith.  W^e  neglect  the 
great,  pleading,  prophetic  word,  "Ho,  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come.  .  .  .  Incline  your  ear  and  come 
imto  me:  hear,  and  your  soul  shall  live;  and  I 
will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with  you,  even  the 
sure  mercies  of  David." 

If  you  live  through  this  mysterious  life  on  this 
mysterious  earth  with  no  outlook  on  the  unseen  and 
eternal,  if  spiritual  truth  sounds  like  an  idle  tale,  if 
you  act  as  if  there  were  nothing  to  hear  and  nothing 
to  learn,  no  secrets  which  God  can  whisper  in  your 
ear,  if  the  great  words  of  religion  are  as  figures  of 
speech;  if,  above  all,  you  do  not  feel  Christ's  im- 
perious claims  and  see  His  transcendent  beauty  and 
hear  His  insistent  appeal,  what  is  to  be  said  but 
that  seeing  you  see  and  do  not  perceive,  and 
hearing  you  hear  and  do  not  understand?  Is  that 
not  for  you  the  judgment  ? 

^ay,  but  I  yield:  I  will  incline  mine  ear  to  the 


20  LISTENING    TO    GOD 

parable.  "I  will  hear  what  God  the  Lord  will  speak : 
He  will  speak  peace  unto  His  people,  but  let  them 
not  return  unto  folly."  He  speaks  that  message  of 
peace  through  righteousness  by  many  voices,  and  not 
one  of  them  without  signification — in  nature  and 
grace,  in  providence  and  love,  in  history  and  ex- 
perience, and  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.  If  He 
spoke  in  the  thunder  and  the  whirlwind  and  the 
tempest,  all  the  earth  might  keep  silence  for  a 
startled  moment.  But  not  thus  is  the  secret  of  His 
peace  conveyed.  You  cannot  hear  that  still  small 
voice,  unless  you  are  still  and  incline  your  ear  and 
submit  your  heart.  The  Lord  Christ  speaks  to  us 
not  only  by  what  He  said,  but  by  what  He  was  and 
what  He  did.  He  speaks  peace  to  us  by  His  words 
of  heavenly  beauty  and  His  deeds  of  gentle  love, 
and  by  the  blood  and  the  tears  and  the  passion  and 
the  cross.  I  will  incline  mine  ear  to  that  wondrous 
parable  of  the  eternal  love  of  God. 

"He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear." 


II 

THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

He  that  missetk  me  wrongeth  Ms  own  soul :  all  they  that  hate  me 
love  (feaf A.— Proverbs  viii.  36  (R.  V.  Margin). 

The  Book  of  Proverbs  might  better  be  called  the 
Book  of  Wisdom,  which  is  the  subject-matter  of  the 
first  nine  chapters,  and  wisdom  of  some  sort  is  indeed 
the  single  theme  of  all  the  chapters.  In  the  book, 
however,  wisdom  is  not  used  in  one  definite  sense 
like  a  mathematical  term  which  has  always  the  same 
value.  It  has  many  shades  of  meaning,  adapting 
itself,  so  to  speak,  to  the  different  levels  of  the  mat- 
ters treated  on.  Roughly,  there  are  three  distinct 
and  separate  senses  in  which  the  word  is  here  used. 

(1)  First  of  all,  at  the  ordinary  level  of  life  wis- 
dom is  used  as  the  guide  of  conduct,  meaning  the 
discretion  which  life  teaches  or  should  teach,  the 
sagacity  in  dealing  with  affairs,  the  knowledge  of 
men  and  things  that  comes  from  experience.  This 
is  a  common  meaning  in  a  book  like  this,  which  is 
a  compendium  of  practical  morality,  and  which  seeks 

21 


22       THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

to  give  good  counsel  to  youth.  As  many  of  the  prov- 
erbs show,  wisdom  means  what  we  call  common 
sense,  and  is  opposed  to  folly,  the  stupid  disregard 
of  facts,  the  dulness  of  mind  that  will  not  learn  the 
lessons  that  are  patent  on  the  very  face  of  life.  Thus, 
the  book  has  many  practical  exhortations  as  to  what 
to  do  in  the  ordinary  problems  that  emerge  every 
day,  exhortations  whose  tone  grows  solemn  and  im- 
pressive as  it  warns  against  gluttony  and  drunken- 
ness and  the  undue  regard  of  wealth  and  kindred 
mistakes,  even  condescending  to  give  advice  about 
becoming  surety  for  another.  It  is  a  sort  of  pru- 
dential morality,  which  experience  loudly  teaches  to 
all  who  are  not  deaf.  Wisdom  in  this  sense  stands 
for  acute  observation,  shrewd  judgment  of  events, 
astute  discernment  of  men,  in  short,  skill  in  the  art 
of  living — all  that  comes  to  a  man  who  knows  the 
cities  and  the  ways  of  men.  It  has  to  do  with  the 
practice  of  life,  the  careful  picking  of  the  steps  amid 
the  entanglements  that  menace  progress,  and  the 
difficulties  that  all  must  face.  Wisdom  thus  implies 
some  knowledge  of  human  character,  noting  the 
results  of  actions,  and  prudently  guarding  against 
the  consequences  that  inevitably  flow  from  folly. 
The  book  is  full  of  wise  maxims  of  ordinary  conduct, 
and  if  we  call  it  the  Book  of  Wisdom  it  must  be 


THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM       23 

acknowledged  that  the  wisdom  is  largely  worldly- 
wisdom  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  taking  to  do 
with  what  we  call  the  secular  life. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  show  how  imperfect  this  con- 
ception of  wisdom  would  bo  if  taken  by  itself;  as 
some  of  the  very  words  we  have  used  show  the 
danger.  When  we  speak  of  prudential  morality,  and 
astuteness  of  conduct,  and  shrewd  judgment  of  men 
and  things,  and  worldly-wisdom,  we  feel  we  are  on 
a  level  that  is  low  though  safe.  To  this  wisdom, 
necessary  though  it  is  to  all  in  some  degree,  we  could 
only  partially  apply  the  words  of  our  text,  "He  that 
misseth  me  wrongeth  his  own  self."  We  are  all 
sufficiently  alive,  at  least  in  theory,  to  the  necessity 
for  such  wisdom;  and  men  are  trained  in  some 
fashion  to  acquire  it;  and  most  of  us  do  gain  some 
knowledge  of  men  and  affairs.  We  all  undergo  the 
education,  which  informs  us  of  things,  and  fills  our 
heads  with  facts  and  distinctions  in  varying  degrees 
of  usefulness  or  uselessness.  It  is  quite  true  that  to 
miss  this  worldly-wisdom  which  life  should  teach  is 
to  wrong  one's  own  self.  To  have  the  means  of 
knowledge  in  our  hands  and  before  our  eyes  and  yet 
not  to  know,  to  have  gone  through  life  with  our 
minds  sealed,  is  to  do  despite  to  our  own  nature.  To 
be  incorrigible,  unteachable,  is  to  be  (as  the  proverbs 


24       THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

again  and  again  declare)  brutish,  like  the  fool  with 
folly  so  ingrained  that  though  he  were  brayed  in  a 
mortar  with  a  pestle  yet  will  not  his  folly  depart 
from  him.  He  that  misseth  me,  says  Wisdom  as  a 
guide  of  practical  conduct,  wrongeth  his  own  self. 

(2)  But  there  is  a  deeper  thought  in  the  word  as 
used  in  this  wise  book,  a  sense,  too,  which  underlies 
all  the  practical  counsels.  Wisdom  is  looked  on  as 
identical  with  the  law  of  God.  It  is  the  discernment 
that  looks  beneath  the  surface  and  sees  cause  and 
effect;  looks  into  the  heart  of  things  and  gets  sane 
and  true  views  of  life,  putting  everything  into  correct 
perspective,  a  guide  of  the  heart  as  well  as  a  guide 
of  the  feet,  a  guide  for  thought  and  feeling  as  well  as 
for  conduct.  In  this  deeper  sense  it  teaches  morals 
and  religion.  Its  very  beginning  is  in  the  fear  of 
God,  reverence  for  the  good  and  the  high.  It  deals 
with  the  moral  basis  of  life,  and  looks  upon  evil,  not 
simply  as  mistake  which  a  wise  man  would  avoid, 
but  as  sin  which  perverts  and  depraves  the  very 
nature.  This  inner,  deeper  wisdom  judges  human 
nature  and  human  conduct  by  the  religious  ideal 
set  forth  in  the  law  of  God.  It  probes  down  to  the 
causes  which  produce  such  tragic  failure  in  the  lives 
of  men.  It  sees  that  life  is  built  on  law ;  so  that  to 
break  law  is  not  merely  folly  that  incurs  punishment 


THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM       25 

from  the  outside  as  by  some  machine  that  regulates 
all  things,  but  is  to  break  the  law  of  our  own  life 
and  sin  against  our  own  nature  and  wrong  our  own 
self.  This  sense  of  the  word  as  the  law  of  God  is 
that  in  which  the  Psalmist  prayed,  "Teach  us  to 
number  our  days  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 
wisdom,"  that  we  may  learn  not  worldly-wisdom  but 
wisdom,  the  true  meaning  and  purport  and  duty 
and  destiny  of  life.  Wisdom  like  this  delights  in 
displaying  the  fitness  of  what  is  good  in  the  scheme 
of  history  and  nature,  pointing  to  a  moral  design  both 
in  human  society  and  in  the  world  at  large. 

(3)  So,  gradually  we  reach  the  third  and  further 
step  which  shows  the  word,  as  used  in  this  book, 
clothed  in  personal  attributes  which  make  wisdom 
divine  and  almost  identical  with  God.  As  being  the 
quality  which  God  displays  in  all  His  works,  and 
being  the  root  principle  of  the  world,  it  is  spoken  of 
(in  words  that  glow  and  catch  fire)  as  a  glorious 
Personality,  the  first-fruits  of  God's  creative  work, 
the  very  first-born  of  creation,  not  only  presiding  over 
the  fortunes  of  men  and  disposing  of  human  destiny, 
but  as  aiding  God  in  creation,  the  divine  Wisdom  set 
up  from  everlasting,  from  the  beginning  or  ever  the 
earth  was.  It  is  in  this  sense  as  Wisdom  personified 
that  the  word  is  used  in  this  chapter,  which  one  who 


26       THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

speaks  with  authority  calls  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able and  beautiful  things  in  Hebrew  literature.  We 
can  understand  how  the  Fathers  of  the  Christian 
Church  used  this  passage  to  illustrate  their  thouglit 
about  Christ,  the  Logos,  the  Word  of  God,  the  in- 
carnate wisdom  and  love  and  righteousness  of  God, 
the  image  of  the  invisible  God,  the  first-born  of  every 
creature,  who  is  before  all  things  and  by  whom  all 
things  consist;  and  we  can  see  how  they  should 
apply  to  Christ  the  beautiful  words  of  this  passage, 
"I  love  them  that  love  me,  and  they  that  seek  me 
early  shall  find  me.  Whoso  findeth  me  findeth  life 
and  shall  obtain  favour  of  the  Lord." 

(1)  These  two  last  senses  of  the  triple  use  of  the 
word  in  Proverbs  easily  merge  into  each  other — 
wisdom  as  identical  with  the  law  of  God  as  the  moral 
basis  of  life,  and  Wisdom  as  personified  as  of  the  very 
Godhead  itself.  We  have  already  seen  what  measure 
of  truth  there  is  in  the  first  sense  as  mere  worldly- 
wisdom  when  our  text  is  applied  to  it,  that  a  man 
does  wrong  himself  when  he  shuts  his  mind  to  the 
experience  and  lessons  of  life,  and  so  misses  ordinary 
wisdom.  It  only  remains  to  apply  the  text  to  the 
other  two  deeper  senses  of  wisdom, 

(2)  To  miss  the  wisdom  that  cometh  from  above, 


THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM      27 

to  fail  to  recognise  the  true  relationship  of  life  with 
the  universal  law  of  God,  is  indeed  to  wrong  our- 
selves. It  is  to  belittle  man  and  do  dishonour  to 
human  nature.  To  believe  it  in  any  sense  true  of 
wisdom  that 

She  doth  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong, 

And  the  most  ancient  heavens  by  her  are  fresh  and  strong, 

and  to  deny  that  that  same  law  has  meaning  and 
purpose  with  human  life,  is  to  make  the  whole 
universe  a  hideous  dance  of  unreason.  And  if 
without  this  faith  there  seems  no  foothold  for  in- 
tellect, still  less  is  there  for  morals.  To  be  men 
in  all  that  hitherto  has  stood  for  manhood  at 
its  best,  we  must  believe  that  our  moral  life  is 
related  to  a  moral  law  which  is  rooted  in  the  very 
nature  of  things;  we  must  believe  that  man  is 
so  related  to  God  that  the  will  of  God,  the  law 
of  God,  is  the  law  of  our  own  life,  and  that  to 
miss  this,  to  sin  against  this,  is  to  destroy  our- 
selves. This  is  why,  according  to  the  Bible,  sin  is 
among  other  things  foolishness,  insensate  folly,  a 
mad  choice  of  death.  To  break  the  command- 
ments is  not  merely  to  break  a  system  of  rules 
arbitrarily  imposed  from  the  outside  on  us,  but 
is  to   sin  against  ourselves,   and   to   ruin   our  owti 


28      THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

true  happiness,   to   dim   the   radiance   of   our   own 
souls,  and  to  desecrate  our  own  life. 

In  moments  of  self-revelation  we  see  that  it  is 
so,  that  it  was  no  alien  hand  that  struck  the 
blow,  that  our  own  silly  hand  turned  the  knife  to 
our  heart,  that  we  wronged  ourselves  when  we 
sinned  against  this  high  wisdom,  against  the  moral 
law  which  lies  at  the  root  of  the  world.  To  hate 
this  wisdom,  to  hate  this  goodness  by  which  we 
can  only  truly  live,  is  to  be  enamoured  of  death, 
a  very  frenzy  of  insanity.  To  miss  this  wisdom 
is  to  miss  life  itself.  Sin  is  not  only  foolishness, 
therefore:  it  is  suicide,  self-inflicted  wrong,  killing 
the  man  in  us,  pouring  out  the  very  blood  of  our 
life.  To  have  lived  and  with  all  our  getting  to 
have  missed  wisdom,  to  have  missed  the  blessed- 
ness of  accord  with  God's  holy  law,  is  failure. 
And  in  all  the  world's  sore  tragedy  there  is  no 
failure  so  tragic  as  this.  As  the  years  pass  by  us 
and  the  shadows  gather  round  us  we  look  back, 
and  the  keenest  sting  is  the  thought  of  what  we 
have  missed  by  the  way,  what  we  might  have  been 
and  done  and  received,  and  failed  to  be  or  do  or 
get.  When  we  have  given  way  to  passion  or  evil 
desire,  when  we  have  sinned  against  conscience  or 
heart,  when  we  have  slid  down  to  lower  levels  of 


THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM       29 

thought  and  life,  how  we  have  wronged  ourselves! 
No  enemy  hath  done  this,  but  we  ourselves.  Fools ! 
we  have  been  our  own  worst  enemy.  "So  foolish 
was  I,  I  was  as  a  beast  before  Thee."  Folly!  It 
is  madness.  "He  that  misseth  me"  (wisdom,  the 
eternal  law  of  all  living)  "wrongeth  his  own  self. 
All  that  hate  me  love  death." 

(3)  Further,  as  if  to  make  this  madness  more 
impossible  still,  wisdom  is  here  set  forth  not  only 
as  a  law  but  as  a  Person — not  a  law  to  be  scrupu- 
lously adhered  to,  but  a  Person  to  be  loved  and 
followed  and  obeyed,  a  fair  and  winsome  Person- 
ality whose  delight  is  with  men,  who  opens  his 
lips  with  words  of  sweet  counsel,  who  loves  those 
who  will  love  him,  and  is  found  of  those  who  seek 
him.  And  when  we  look  into  this  fair  picture  of 
Wisdom  personified,  we  cannot  distinguish  it  from 
the  very  God  of  very  God,  revealing  Himself  to 
men,  entering  into  human  history,  rejoicing  in  His 
habitable  earth,  standing  as  Wisdom  stands  beside 
the  gates  at  the  entry  of  the  city,  crying  that  all 
may  hear,  "Unto  you,  O  men,  I  call,  and  my  voice 
is  to  the  sons  of  men."  This  personified  wisdom 
in  this  passage  from  Proverbs  is  vague  and  shadowy, 
and  is  after  all  an  abstraction,  but  we  are  dull  of 
heart  if  we  do  not  see  it  to  be  in  line  with  the 


30       THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM 

deepest  revelation  of  all  religion,  and  dull  of  heart 
if  we  do  not  let  it  speak  to  lis  of  Christ.  It  is  to 
ns  as  a  dim  foreshadowing  of  the  Incarnation  itself. 
In  Christ  we  see  not  only  Wisdom  incarnate,  but 
Love  incarnate.  For  the  blurred  figure  of  a  Wisdom 
coeval  with  God  and  yet  making  her  dwelling- 
place  with  men,  we  have  the  figure  of  Christ,  the 
Wisdom  the  Word  of  God  made  flesh,  entering 
into  our  human  lot  a  heliDless  child,  drinking  the 
cup  of  human  life  and  tasting  what  it  is  for  a  man 
to  die. 

Surely  we  see  the  glory  of  it.  There  rises  be- 
fore us  the  vision  of  a  face  full  of  pity  and  of 
pain,  pleading  with  a  look  that  almost  breaks  the 
heart  of  the  man  who  sees  it.  Back  from  the 
mystery  of  the  cross  to  the  mystery  of  the  man- 
ger of  Bethlehem,  through  the  wondrous  life  full 
of  grace  and  truth,  giving  men  His  OAvn  assur- 
ance of  God,  His  own  joy  and  peace,  making  it 
possible  for  men  to  live  in  the  power  of  an  endless 
life.  In  Him  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge.  He  is  the  Light,  and  the  Light  is 
the  life  of  men.  Surely  we  needs  must  love  the 
highest  when  we  see  it.  But  do  we  ?  Do  we  rec- 
ognise it  to  be  the  highest  when  we  do  see  it? 
Do   we   feel   as   the   light  flashes   upon   heart   and 


THE    MISSING    OF    WISDOM       31 

conscience  that  this  life  in  Christ  is  the  only 
worthy,  the  only  true  life  for  man?  To  bend  to 
Christ  is  to  bend  to  the  highest  in  man,  in  our 
own  nature.  In  Him  we  are  only  fulfilling  our- 
selves, reaching  what  we  were  meant  to  be,  enter- 
ing into  life,  fulness  of  life.  It  is  imutterably  true 
of  Christ,  truer  than  ever  it  could  mean  to  writer  or 
hearer  of  the  Proverbs,  "Whoso  findeth  Me  findeth 
life,"  and  "He  that  misseth  Me  wrongeth  his  own 
self." 

To  be  in  the  midst  of  the  Christian  years  and 
yet  not  to  know  Him  who  gives  them  meaning; 
to  miss  Christ  though  He  is  passing  by  in  our 
midst;  not  to  have  the  sharp,  sweet  sting  of 
Christmas  joy  that  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  Jesus 
who  saves  His  people  from  their  sins ;  to  be  within 
reach  of  His  glorious  personality  and  to  lose  Him, 
is  to  lose  one's  own  true  self,  to  lose  one's  chance 
of  life.  ISTo  other  gain  can  compensate  for  missing 
this.  All  other  gain  is  loss  compared  to  this.  To 
love  Him  is  to  enter  into  life.  To  be  in  Him  is 
to  live  for  evermore.  To  miss  Him,  the  altogether 
lovely,  is  to  wrong  your  own  soul.  To  hate  Him 
is  to  love  death. 


Ill 

THE    REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

My  little  children,  of  whom  I  travail  in  birth  again  until  Christ  be 
formed  in  yow.— Galatians  iv.  19. 

In  dealing  with  the  Galatians  St.  Paul  was  dealing 
with  a  case  of  apostasy,  a  distinct  decline  from  the 
faith  as  he  had  preached  it  to  them.  False  teachers 
had  come  among  them  and  had  drawn  them  back 
into  legalism  of  creed  and  of  life.  They  turned  from 
the  freedom  and  spirituality  of  the  Gospel  to  the 
laws  and  formalism  of  Judaism.  And  it  looked  as 
if  St.  Paul's  work  among  them,  which  had  been  so 
successful,  had  been  in  vain.  The  Apostle  uses  every 
means  of  persuasion,  by  solemn  warning,  by  tender 
entreaty,  by  touching  the  chord  of  memory,  by  ap- 
peal to  their  regard  for  him  and  his  affection  for 
them,  in  order  to  recall  them  to  their  allegiance,  not 
to  himself  but  to  his  Master  and  theirs  to  whom  they 
had  plighted  themselves. 

This   verse   of   our   text    is   full   of   the   natural 
emotion  which  such  a  situation  as  we  have  sketched 

82 


REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST     33 

must  call  forth.  The  very  form  of  the  sentence 
suggests  mingled  rebuke  and  appeal.  "My  little 
children/'  he  says,  using  the  diminutive  of  the  word 
for  the  only  time  in  all  his  writings,  with  a  kind  of 
pity  for  their  weakness  and  foolishness  in  being  so 
led  astray,  and  also  with  the  tenderness  which  the 
thought  brings  that  they  are  but  little  children  after 
all,  and  his  little  children,  over  whom  he  has  the 
right  of  love.  He  reminds  them  that  they  owe  their 
whole  religious  life  to  him,  that  he  it  was  (and  not 
these  intermeddlers  who  came  in  later  and  arrogated 
the  place  of  teachers)  who  brought  to  them  the 
good  news  of  the  grace  of  God  and  told  them  of 
Jesus  the  Saviour.  With  passion  for  their  souls 
and  an  agony  of  love  for  them  he  had  brought  them 
out  of  darkness  into  light ;  he  had  travailed  in  birth 
for  them ;  and  now  again  he  undergoes  sorer  pangs 
on  their  behalf,  with  fear  and  pain  and  desire.  It 
is  because  he  loves  them  that  he  carries  them  on 
his  heart,  loves  them  as  a  mother  loves  her  help- 
less babe.  "My  little  children,  of  whom  I  travail  in 
birth  again." 

There  is  a  sting  in  that  word  "again,"  a  sting  of 
unavailing  love  for  Paul,  a  sting  of  rebuke  for  them. 
That  he  should  have  to  write  to  them  as  though 
the  past  had  never  been,  as  though  the  old  relation- 


34     REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

ship  between  them  were  a  thing  of  no  moment, 
that  was  surely  a  painful  thing  for  both  Paul  and 
his  converts.  They  will  lie  on  his  heart  in  the  pain 
and  unrest  of  desire  until — not  merely  until  they 
come  to  Christ  as  before  humbly  and  believingly, 
but  until  Christ  is  formed  in  them,  or  rather  until 
they  have  become  so  closely  united  to  Christ  that 
they  shall  have  taken  the  form  of  Christ.  Here 
also  is  the  mingled  rebuke  and  loving  desire.  It 
is  not  merely  that  he  wants  the  best  for  them  and 
will  not  be  satisfied  till  they  receive  the  best;  but 
also  that  he  cannot  trust  them  now.  He  cannot 
now  be  happy  even  in  their  faith  till  he  is  sure  that 
their  faith  is  justified  and  established.  He  had 
travailed  in  birth  for  them  before.  He  had  loved 
them  into  life,  and  with  great  joy  had  seen  them 
safely  into  the  Kingdom.  They  had  started  well, 
but  had  been  hindered,  had  fallen  back  from  Christ ; 
and  now  again  he  travails  for  them — and  will  travail 
— until  Christ  is  formed  in  them. 

St.  Paul's  sorrow  and  panic  of  fear  has  had 
many  subsequent  illustrations  in  the  history  of  the 
Church.  Many  like  Pliable  have  started  with  Chris- 
tian in  the  new  way,  and  turned  back  at  the  first 
obstacle.  Of  how  many  since  could  St.  Paul's  re- 
buke be  repeated,   "O  foolish  Galatians,  who  hath 


REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST     35 

bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not  obey  the  truth?" 
after  having  once  seen  and  known  the  truth.  How 
often  could  it  be  said,  "Ye  did  run  well" — shaped 
fairly  for  the  mark — "who  hath  hindered  you  ?"  It 
is  something  to  have  been  gripped  and  held  once 
by  the  attractive  power  of  Christ,  to  have  had  the 
eye  lighten  by  the  splendour  of  the  vision ;  but  what 
if  it  only  fade  into  the  common  light  of  day,  what 
if  the  life  give  the  lie  to  the  faith  ?  The  passion  of 
Christ  and  the  passion  of  Christ's  servants  will  not 
be  over,  till  there  be  evidence  of  perseverance  unto 
the  end,  till  Christ  be  formed  in  them,  and  they  grow 
up  into  the  full  stature  of  Christ. 

This  is  the  great  Christian  task.  St.  Paul's  desire 
for  his  converts  does  not  refer  merely  to  the  further 
instruction  they  might  receive  in  the  faith,  fuller 
knowledge  of  Christian  doctrine,  completer  insight 
into  Christian  truth.  It  is  the  recognition  that  the 
new  life  which  began  in  them  suddenly  has,  like 
all  life,  to  grow  to  maturity,  forming  and  fashioning 
itself  according  to  its  nature — and  that  nature  is 
Christ.  They  must  develop  the  Christian  character, 
and  live  out  the  Christian  life.  It  is  not  a  system 
of  teaching  merely,  but  a  new  principle  of  life,  which 
takes  root  and  assimilates  elements  of  its  environ- 
ment,  transforming  them  into  new  forms  of  life. 


36     REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

The  beginning  of  this  process  is  when  a  man  be- 
comes a  Christian,  but  that  is  only  the  beginning 
of  a  process,  the  goal  of  which  is  that  he  is  a  man 
in  whom  Christ  lives.  It  is  a  spiritual  transforma- 
tion after  the  image  of  Christ.  No  part  of  the  being 
of  man  is  to  be  left  out  of  this  great  scheme;  the 
body  and  its  members  are  to  be  the  body  and 
members  of  Christ  and  to  be  treated  as  such;  the 
mind  is  to  be  the  mind  of  Christ;  the  heart  is  to 
be  the  seat  and  throne  and  sanctuary  of  Christ. 
What  a  glorious  conception  this  is  of  the  Christ- 
birth  in  a  man,  until  he  becomes  a  veritable  reincar- 
nation— until  you  have  taken  the  form  of  Christ 
is  St.  Paul's  ideal,  until  you  are  no  longer  you  but 
Christ,  reclothed  in  flesh  and  human  attributes  by 
Him,  so  that  you  can  say  with  some  measure  of 
truth,  as  St.  Paul  himself  could  say,  "I  live,  yet  not 
I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me." 

It  is  St.  Paul's  great  aim  and  endeavour  that  he 
may  be  so  associated  with  Christ,  so  united  to  Him, 
may  so  know  Him,  that  he  may  experience  the 
power  of  His  resurrection,  and  the  fellowship  of 
His  sufferings,  and  even  be  made  conformable  unto 
His  death.  What  do  these  wonderful  words  mean? 
They  mean  that  his  desire  is  so  full  of  Christ  that 
he  would  fain  miss  nothing  of  the  Master's  experi- 


REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST     37 

ence — be  the  same,  do  the  same,  suffer  the  same, 
identify  himself  wholly  with  his  Lord.  And  this 
not  only  in  the  sense  of  going  over  in  imagination 
the  scenes  of  His  earthly  life  and  passion  in 
sympathetic  thought,  though  that  may  be  a  valuable 
and  helpful  exercise.  One  great  use  of  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  simple  Gospel  story  is  to  accustom 
ourselves  to  the  Master's  point  of  view  and  manner 
of  life,  and  so  to  make  His  teaching  our  test  of 
conduct  and  His  life  our  example.  We  can  practise 
the  presence  of  Christ  in  this  simple  way,  living 
over  again  with  Him  His  life  in  the  world,  going 
with  Him  through  all  His  experiences  and  identi- 
fying ourselves  with  His  life  and  death  and  triumph. 
It  purifies  passion  and  cleanses  the  very  heart  thus 
to  go  with  Him  in  sanctified  imagination  through 
His  earthly  life,  and  to  say  to  oneself  through  it  all 
that  He  is  the  same  to-day  in  nature  and  in  purpose. 
But  it  is  deeper  identification  still  that  St.  Paul 
desires  for  himself  and  for  others.  He  comes  to 
the  heart  of  all  spiritual  religion,  that  we  can  abide 
in  Christ  as  the  branches  abide  in  the  vine,  and 
Christ  abide  in  us  as  the  life  of  the  vine  is  the 
same  life  in  the  branches,  the  part  in  the  whole 
and  the  whole  in  the  part.  It  is  not  the  outside 
recognition  of  the  facts  of  Christ's  life  and  death, 


38     REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

but  inward  appropriation  of  His  spirit,  so  that  living 
faith  becomes  not  merely  trusting  to  the  facts  of 
our  Lord's  incarnation  and  death,  but  having  them 
re-enacted  again  within  ourselves. 

Though  Christ  a  thousand  times  in  Bethlehem  be  born 
But  not  within  thyself,  thy  soul  shall  be  forlorn  ; 
The  cross  of  Golgotha  thou  lookest  to  in  vain 
Unless  within  thyself  it  be  set  up  again. 

This  is  the  eternal  truth  of  all  mysticism.  This 
is  also  the  essential  meaning  of  the  great  solemn 
act  in  Holy  Communion  with  its  symbols  of  eating 
the  body  of  Christ  and  drinking  His  blood.  It 
stands  for  a  far  deeper  mystery  and  a  more  wondrous 
miracle  than  transubstantiation,  the  changing  of 
the  bread  into  the  actual  body  of  our  Lord.  In 
the  presence  of  this  other  mystery  that  is  but  a 
childish  interpretation,  like  a  trivial  piece  of  magic. 
'Not  that  the  bread  is  changed  into  the  body  of 
Christ  is  the  Real  Presence,  but  that  we  who  eat 
the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  Man  are  changed  spiritually, 
and  the  very  Christ  is  formed  in  us.  This  is  the 
purpose  of  the  Sacrament,  and  the  purpose  of  the 
faith  itself,  till  for  each  of  us  it  is  no  longer  I  but 
Christ  that  liveth  in  me.  This  is  the  central  truth 
of  St.  Paul's  whole  message,  a  truth  which  he  never 
tires  of  repeating  in  changing  forms:  "Put  on  the 


REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST     39 

new  man,  which  is  renewed  in  knowledge  after  the 
image  of  Him  who  created  him." 

It  is  the  goal  this,  the  ideal,  the  completion  of  the 
Christian  life,  the  end  that  shall  yet  be  by  God's 
grace,  when  a  man  grows  up  into  the  full  stature 
of  Christ.  Yes,  it  is  the  goal,  but  it  is  not  to  be 
postponed  and  put  away  by  us  as  some  far-off  event 
that  may  be  looked  for  in  the  future.  It  is  a  present 
task.  Would  we  know  the  method  of  attempting 
the  task  ?  It  is  a  simple  secret.  The  practical 
working  of  it  for  us  is  that  we  bring  every  thought 
into  subjection  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  This  is 
the  psychology  of  it,  superimposing  Christ's  will  and 
mind  over  ours,  desiring  to  serve  and  please  Him 
and  not  ourselves,  making  Him  in  all  things  our 
conscience,  and  bringing  everything  to  the  test  of 
that  conscience.  Let  Him  colour  opinion  and  thought 
and  judgment  and  desire  and  ambition  and  hope, 
transforming  them  all  into  His  own  glorious  purposes. 
Is  there  any  ideal  in  life  which  for  grandeur  can  be 
compared  to  this,  that  we  should — in  love,  in  desire, 
by  patience,  by  hope,  by  prayer — so  submit  our  very 
life  to  Christ,  until  we  have  taken  the  form  of  Christ, 
and  He  be  formed  in  us?  This  is  the  Christ-birth 
of  which  the  birth  in  Bethlehem  was  a  shadow  and 
a  prophecy. 


40     REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

A  practical  implication  of  this  high  doctrine,  and 
one  which  suggests  duty  and  responsibility,  is  that 
Christians  are  Christ's  representatives  on  earth.  It 
is  not  the  ministry  who  are  Christ's  representatives 
but  all  Christians,  who  stand  for  Christ.  If  there 
be  nothing  of  Him  in  lis,  if  we  are  only  His  in  name, 
we  are  not  only  losing  our  own  chance  but  are 
dishonouring  Him.  His  Kingdom  can  only  come 
as  His  ref)resentatives  state  the  case  for  the 
Kingdom,  not  in  words,  not  in  a  rational  defence 
of  the  faith,  but  in  character  and  life.  Ye  are 
epistles  known  and  read  of  all  men.  It  is  the  only 
way  of  converting  the  world,  as  soul  takes  fire  from 
soul,  and  faith  begets  faith,  and  the  spectacle  of 
righteousness  and  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost 
awakens  desire  in  those  who  see.  Height  answers 
height,  deep  calls  to  deep,  the  deep  of  your  Christian 
experience  to  the  deep  of  another's  need.  The  only 
irresistible  testimony  is  that  of  actual  Christlike 
lives.  Are  we  in  any  vital  sense  stating  the  case  for 
the  King? 

Such  is  the  demand  made  upon  you.  It  is  not 
that  the  world  will  be  persuaded  by  a  few  grand 
examples  of  sacrifice,  and  that  therefore,  if  the  faith 
can  but  produce  these  exceptional  cases,  it  is  all 
right.     These  have  never  been  wanting,  but  in  them- 


REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST     41 

selves  would  only  make  men  wonder  and  admire  and 
then  pass  them  by  as  exceptional.  When  Moses' 
desire  is  fulfilled  that  all  the  Lord's  people  should 
be  prophets,  when  all  Christians  realise  their  high 
calling,  who  could  gainsay  it  ?  If  we  had  the  mind 
of  Christ,  if  thought  and  feeling  and  ambition  were 
being  subdued  to  His  allegiance,  if  His  love  were 
manifest  in  us,  living  sweetly  and  humbly  in  His 
presence,  then  would  be  displayed  the  unanswerable 
argument  for  God. 

Oh,  to  have  at  hand  such  an  argument,  as  in  the 
days  when  men  could  take  notice  of  disciples  that 
they  had  been  with  Jesus,  or  the  days  when  men 
said  in  wonder  and  attraction,  "Behold  these  Chris- 
tians, how  they  love  one  another!"  To  be  able  to 
point  on  all  hands  to  living  epistles,  simply  and 
plainly  telling  their  story,  unconsciously  repeating 
the  story  of  the  Father's  love,  moving  men's  hearts 
with  the  pang  of  desire,  convincing  the  world  of 
God — amid  the  restless,  fretful  fever  showing  peace, 
amid  strife  and  anger  and  hatred  displaying  love, 
amid  vanity  and  worldliness  and  selfish  schemes 
whose  fruit  is  bitterness  pointing  to  a  path  high 
up  among  the  hills  of  God,  a  path  that  ends  at  the 
gates  of  the  beautiful  City.  Can  the  task  of  the 
Church    be    anywhere    near    completion    until    its 


42     REINCARNATION    OF    CHRIST 

members  are  thus  mute  (it  may  be)  but  eloquent 
witnesses  to  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  ?  Can 
your  own  task  be  said  to  be  more  than  begun,  and 
must  not  the  best  lover  of  your  soul  travail  again 
and  yet  again  in  birth  for  you,  until  Christ  is 
formed  in  you,  until  you  can  make  the  glorious 
confession,  "The  life  that  I  live  in  the  flesh  I  live 
by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God  who  loved  me  and 
gave  Himself  for  me"  ? 


IV 

LOT'S    CHOICE 

Then  Lot  chose  him  all  the  plain  of  Jordan;  and  Lot  journeyed 
east :  and  they  separated  themselves  the  one  from  the  other.  Abram 
dwelled  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  Lot  dwelled  in  the  cities  of  the 
plain,  and  pitched  his  tent  toward  ;So(?om.— Genesis  xiii.  11, 

Lot  had  followed  the  fortunes  of  Abram  from  the 
time  when  he  emigrated  from  Ur  of  the  Chaldees. 
There  seems  to  have  been  a  mixture  of  motives  in 
his  mind,  partly  religious  and  partly  selfish.  He 
believed  in  his  uncle's  future  and  no  doubt  was 
impressed  with  his  nobility  of  character,  and  doubt- 
less with  some  stirring  of  heart,  with  sincere  feeling, 
he  had  thrown  in  his  venture  with  Abram.  They 
had  shared  in  each  other's  poverty  and  hardships, 
and  now  shared  in  each  other's  wealth.  Driven  to 
Egypt  by  hunger  and  want  of  rain,  they  had  re- 
turned men  of  substance,  rich  in  flocks  and  herds. 
They  moved  together  as  of  old  among  the  hills  of 
Canaan,  forming  one  encampment,  the  two  heads  of 
two  companies  seemingly  united  as  before. 

ISTot  for  the  first  time  nor  the  last  in  human  ex- 
43 


44  LOT'S    CHOICE 

perience  was  it  found  harder  to  bear  prosperity  than 
adversity.  When  they  were  poor,  uncle  and  nephew 
had  no  difficulty  in  keeping  together  and  sharing 
one  fortune.  But  wealth  divided  them,  introduced 
friction,  and  ultimately  forced  them  to  separate. 
The  dividing  of  the  inheritance  is  responsible  for 
much  dividing  of  hearts.  "Look  at  a  file  of  your 
sister's  letters,"  says  Thackeray,  "how  you  clung  to 
each  other  till  you  quarrelled  about  the  twenty- 
poimd  legacy!"  In  this  story  of  patriarchal  times 
we  see  how  the  possession  of  property  brought  with 
it  new  social  problems  for  the  jDrimitive  family.  In 
this  case  the  difficulty  began  not  with  the  principals 
but  with  their  retainers.  Before  the  difficulty  struck 
the  masters,  the  servants  were  at  war.  Jealousy 
about  respective  rights,  and  emulation  to  secure  the 
better  bargain,  crept  in.  The  shepherds  strove  to 
get  the  best  grass  and  the  best  wells  for  their  special 
herds;  and  Abram  with  his  calm  wisdom  saw  that 
it  would  be  better  to  avoid  all  such  unseemly 
quarrels  by  voluntarily  separating.  He  took  his 
nephew  out  to  talk  about  it,  and  the  two  went 
to  the  top  of  a  hill  where  an  extensive  view  of  the 
whole  surroundings  could  be  had. 

There   is   something   dramatic   about   this   scene, 
not  because  the  decision  to  be  come  to  between  the 


LOT'S    CHOICE  45 

two  men  was  so  simply  but  grandly  staged,  but  be- 
cause it  meant  the  drama,  ever  old  and  ever  new, 
wherein  human  souls  make  definite  choice  and  fix 
their  destiny.  Abram  with  generous  disinterested- 
ness offers  Lot  his  choice.  "Let  there  be  no  strife 
I  pray  thee  between  thee  and  me,  and  between  thy 
herdmen  and  my  herdmen;  for  we  be  brethren.  Is 
not  the  whole  land  before  thee  ?  Separate  thyself 
I  pray  thee  from  me.  If  thou  wilt  take  the  left 
hand  then  I  will  go  to  the  right;  or  if  thou  wilt 
take  the  right  hand  then  I  will  go  to  the  left."  It 
was  quite  like  Abram  to  do  this,  in  keeping  with 
his  noble  nature;  and  we  would  have  expected  to 
see  such  highmindedness  met  on  Lot's  part  with 
equal  magnanimity.  Deep  should  call  to  deep,  and 
height  answer  height.  We  expect  greatness  of  soul 
to  be  responded  to  by  similar  greatness.  But  it  does 
not  follow  that  generosity  meets  its  own  likeness 
in  others.  The  selfish  take  advantage  of  it,  and 
sometimes  call  it  simplicity,  trade  upon  it,  and  only 
fall  to  lower  depths  in  its  presence.  In  this  great 
crucial  test  of  Lot's  character  he  (as  no  doubt  he 
often  did  before)  met  Abram's  generosity  with 
selfishness. 

The  presence  of  moral  greatness  either  raises  us 
or  dwarfs  us,  either  prompts  us  to  rise  to  the  occa- 


46  LOT'S    CHOICE 

sion,  or  tempts  us  to  take  advantage  of  it.  The  only 
way  to  avoid  envy  and  detraction  and  malice  about 
any  kind  of  greatness  in  literature  or  art  or  business 
or  life  is  to  love  it,  to  admire  it,  to  be  proud  of  it — 
otherwise  we  make  ourselves  smaller  and  meaner  men 
than  we  would  have  been  if  we  had  not  been  brought 
into  connection  with  the  particular  form  of  greatness. 
Lot  lost  his  chance  of  meeting  Abram's  generosity 
with  equal  generosity.  All  that  Lot  possessed  had 
come  to  him  through  Abram.  He  might  have  said, 
"I^ay,  it  is  not  for  me  to  choose.  All  I  have  is  thine. 
Take  thy  choice  and  give  me  what  is  right."  He 
would  have  kept  his  life  from  being  compassed  about 
with  many  sorrows,  and  have  saved  his  old  age 
from  shame.  But  the  world  had  taken  possession 
of  his  heart.  Egypt,  which  had  been  to  Abram  a 
discipline,  had  been  to  Lot  a  temptation.  His  im- 
agination there  was  inflamed  by  the  sight  of  wealth 
beyond  dream.  His  soul  was  taken  captive  by  the 
desire  to  be  rich;  and  Lot  lifted  up  his  eyes  and 
beheld  all  the  plain  of  Jordan,  that  it  was  well 
watered  everywhere,  even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
like  the  land  of  Egypt. 

Worldly  advantage  was  the  first  element  in  his 
choice.  He  judged  according  to  the  world's  judg- 
ment ;  he  judged  by  the  eye.     His  heart  was  allured 


LOT'S    CHOICE  47 

by  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  plain,  and  it 
seemed  only  prudence  and  common  sense  to  prefer 
that  to  a  barren  and  scanty  living  among  the  hills. 
From  the  worldly  standpoint  he  was  right.  There 
could  be  no  hesitation  to  a  worldly  mind  between 
the  two  alternatives.  On  the  one  side  was  the  prom- 
ise of  wealth,  its  easy  acquisition,  and  its  seeming 
security  of  tenure — a  well-watered  land,  rich  and 
fertile.  On  the  other  side  the  gain  was  limited  and 
hardly-won,  and  any  day  another  drought  could  occur 
and  sweep  away  everything,  as  before  when  hunger 
drove  them  to  Egypt. 

It  is  true  there  were  other  things  to  be  considered, 
which  would  weigh  with  Abram,  such  as  the  religious 
aspect  of  the  question.  On  the  one  side  was  the 
notorious  godlessness  of  the  people  of  Sodom,  and 
all  the  risks  involved  in  that.  It  is  the  kind  of  risk 
which  a  man  like  Lot  takes  with  an  easy  mind,  or  if 
he  does  feel  twinges  of  conscience  about  it  he  soon 
argues  himself  into  compliance ;  for  he  does  not  mean 
to  give  up  his  own  convictions  and  habits,  his 
own  higher  way  of  thinking  and  manner  of  living. 
He  wants  to  make  the  best  of  both  worlds.  He  will 
just  go  near  enough  to  Sodom  to  reap  all  the  earthly 
advantages  it  offers,  but  w^ill  not  submit  himself  to 
the  defilements  of  the  place.    So  we  read  that  Lot  at 


48  LOT'S    CHOICE 

first  only  pitched  his  tents  towards  Sodom.  But 
when  next  we  hear  of  him  he  is  in  the  town,  mixed 
■up  with  its  affairs,  his  daughters  married  to  men  of 
the  place,  and  at  the  last  involved  morally  in  its 
ruin.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  history  of  a  sin,  step 
by  step,  from  its  genesis  in  the  desire,  to  its  fruition 
in  the  act,  and  its  end  in  corruption.  "A  man  is 
tempted  by  his  own  lust,  being  drawn  away  by  it  and 
enticed.  Then  the  lust  when  it  hath  conceived 
bringeth  forth  sin;  and  the  sin  when  it  is  fullgrown 
bringeth  forth  death." 

It  was  not  for  this  that  Lot  had  left  Ur  of  the 
Chaldees  with  Abram.  Surely  one  of  his  motives 
had  been  to  be  associated  with  his  uncle  in  his 
religious  aspiration?;  and  in  any  case  he  had  been 
long  enough  with  him  to  be  sure  that  no  prospect  of 
worldly  advantage  could  possible  seduce  him  to  have 
any  connection  with  such  a  place  as  Sodom,  even  to 
take  from  a  thread  to  a  shoe-latchet.  ISTot  for  all  the 
wealth  of  Sodom  would  he  deny  the  vision  of  the 
Holiest  he  had  received.  Lot  meant  to  have  no  part 
morally  in  the  place.  He  only  meant  to  reap  the 
earthly  advantage.  And  possibly  not  much  evident 
harm  could  come  to  himself;  his  habits  were  formed ; 
his  life  was  more  or  less  fixed  in  its  tendency;  the 
risk  was  very  little  that  he  would  be  infected  by  the 


LOT'S    CHOICE  49 

loathsome  sins  of  the  cities  of  the  plain.  And  so  he 
shut  his  eyes  to  the  risks  to  his  children,  and  likely 
enough  argued  that  it  was  for  their  good  that  he 
made  his  choice,  to  make  money  for  them,  and 
advance  them  in  life.  Just  as  men  to-day  will  take 
moral  risks  for  their  children,  form  associations  for 
business  purposes,  introduce  to  their  families  with 
an  eye  to  gain  men  whom  otherwise  they  would  kick 
out  of  their  houses;  or  scheme  for  the  worldly 
advancement  of  their  children,  closing  their  minds 
to  the  risk  of  contagion  deadlier  than  disease ;  en- 
courage their  sons  to  form  friendships  that  may  be 
socially  useful;  marry  their  daughters  to  rakes  if 
only  they  are  rich  enough;  or  they  will  toil  and 
labour  and  strive  and  sin  to  amass  wealth  for  their 
children's  sake,  giving  them  no  moral  and  spiritual 
safeguards  to  save  the  wealth  from  being  a  curse. 
Is  Lot's  choice  such  an  unheard-of  thing,  and  Lot's 
reasoning  so  uncommon,  and  Lot's  fate  a  story  of 
olden  time  ?  But  then  as  now,  first  and  last,  in 
olden  and  in  modern  days,  this  is  the  reading  of  the 
history  of  men  and  of  nations,  they  that  will  be  rich, 
that  judge  all  things  from  the  material  standard,  that 
make  getting  their  one  aim,  that  allow  the  world  to 
eat  out  their  heart,  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare 
and  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown 


60  LOT'S    CHOICE 

men  in  destruction  and  perdition.  It  is  the  judg- 
ment of  the  Apostle,  and  the  judgment  of  history; 
for  it  is  the  judgment  of  God. 

The  lonely  man  on  the  hilltop,  lonelier  now  that 
he  had  made  still  another  sacrifice,  seemed  to  have 
made  a  poor  bargain  when  Lot  left  him  for  the 
fertile  plain.  He  too  had  made  a  choice,  and  choked 
back  the  craving  of  his  natural  self,  and  elected  to 
make  renunciation.  But  he  was  blessed  with  a  new 
revelation  of  God,  and  came  out  with  a  deeper  nature 
and  a  stronger  character,  a  calmer  peace  and  serener 
faith.  God  was  his  portion.  Lot  in  effect  made  the 
great  refusal,  turned  his  back  upon  the  highest, 
chose  the  world,  and  got  Sodom  for  his  portion ;  and 
was  dowered  with  the  worldling's  withered  heart  and 
enfeebled  will,  and  in  the  end  shame  and  ruin  and 
"self-contempt  bitterer  to  drink  than  blood."  This 
scene  on  the  hilltop  is  not  just  idle  drama.  It 
represents  the  tragic  choice  which  in  one  of  its 
numberless  forms  comes  to  every  human  soul. 
Amid  all  the  disguises  and  the  false  issues,  the  one 
line  of  cleavage  runs  through  all  life.  The  alterna- 
tives are  but  two,  the  choice  of  the  world  and  the 
choice  of  God,  the  material  or  the  spiritual,  the 
self-life  or  the  Christ-life. 

Now  the  power  of  the  temptation  to  Lot,  as  it 


LOT'S    CHOICE  61 

is  the  power  of  it  to  us,  was  that  the  good  of  the 
one  alternative  was  present;  while  the  good  of  the 
other  seemed  distant.  The  one  could  be  had  at 
sight;  the  other  only  through  faith.  The  one  was 
fact,  a  good  to  be  grasped  at  and  caught  here  and 
now ;  the  other  was  promise,  a  good  that  was  elusive, 
something  to  be  believed  about,  not  to  be  seen  and 
tasted.  When  Esau  is  pained  and  famished  with 
hunger,  why  should  he  not  give  up  a  far-away  thing 
like  his  birthright  for  the  present  good  ?  When 
the  wild  passion  is  in  Cain's  heart,  why  should  he 
not  give  way  to  its  resistless  force?  When  the 
lust  kindles  in  David's  eye,  why  should  he  not 
satisfy  it  when  he  has  the  power  ?  When  the  sound 
of  the  silver  is  in  Judas'  ear,  why  should  he  not 
at  least  get  that  much  gain  out  of  a  sinking  cause? 
When  Paul  was  in  prison  and  the  company  of 
missionaries  were  scattered  and  the  might  of  Rome 
barred  the  way,  why  should  Demas  waste  his  life 
for  an  intangible  dream?  "Demas  hath  forsaken 
me,  having  loved  this  present  world,"  sighed  the 
Apostle.  That  is  the  power  of  the  world  to  Demas, 
to  Lot,  to  all  of  us,  that  it  is  present.  The  seduction 
of  the  world  is  that  it  is  here,  palpable,  to  be  had 
now.  It  presses  on  the  mind:  it  presses  on  the 
senses.     To  exercise  self-control  for  the  sake  of  a 


52  LOT'S    CHOICE 

future  blessing,  to  put  off  a  present  good  for  a  pro- 
spective good,  needs  strength  of  character  and  will, 
and,  above  all,  faith.  To  accept  hardship,  or  pain,  or 
sacrifice  now  for  some  far-off  good;  to  endure  the 
cross  for  the  joy  before  us — that  is  the  act  of  faith. 
"What  can  a  man  that  walks  by  sight  do,  but  take  hold 
of  the  things  that  belong  to  sight  and  sense  ?  The 
world  that  allures  him  puts  its  emphasis  on  the  fact 
that  it  is  present.  It  is  here  offering  a  life  now,  not 
to  be  waited  for,  or  imagined,  or  dreamed  about,  but 
with  real  attractions  of  sound  and  sight  and  touch. 
By  its  nature  it  appeals  to  the  senses.  It  is  clamant, 
imperious,  plucking  us  by  the  elbow  in  the  streets, 
dangling  its  baits  before  our  longing  eyes,  and  finding 
an  able  advocate  of  its  claims  within  our  own  breasts. 
It  obtrudes  itself  upon  us,  and  will  give  us  no  peace 
till  we  come  to  terms  with  it,  submit  to  it,  or  sub- 
due it. 

Faith  is  the  refusal  of  the  small,  for  the  sake 
of  the  large.  Faith  will  make  no  decision,  take  no 
step,  merely  from  worldly  motives;  for  it  sees  past 
the  immediate  good  to  a  richer,  grander  good. 
Worldly-wisdom  is  not  wisdom ;  it  is  folly,  the  blind 
grasping  at  what  is  within  reach. 

A  man's  grasp  is  beyond  his  reach, 
Else  what's  a  heaven  for? 


LOT'S    CHOICE  53 

It  is  folly,  for  any  present  good,  to  cut  yourself  off 
from  your  true  life.  A  good  conscience,  peace  of 
heart,  faith,  the  vision  of  God,  the  hope  of  glory — 
it  is  a  fool's  bargain  (let  pot-house  moralists  prate 
as  they  may)  to  barter  these  for  any  mess  of  pottage. 
To  rake  in  the  dust-heap  for  scraps  of  treasure 
heedless  of  the  golden  crown  to  be  had  for  the  look- 
ing and  the  taking — that  was  Lot's  choice,  and  that 
is  the  choice  of  every  soul  who  seeks  first  the  world. 
Demas  thought  he  was  doing  a  wise  thing  in  leaving 
Paul  when  earthly  success  seemed  lost,  but  this 
present  world,  seductive  though  it  was  to  him,  how- 
ever much  it  brought  him,  was  a  poor,  a  contemptible 
exchange  for  the  days  and  nights  with  Paul,  and 
the  life  lived  by  the  Son  of  God.  And  his  name 
is  an  infamy.  Lot  thought  he  was  doing  a  wise 
thing  in  making  the  choice  he  did,  but  a  share  in 
the  wealth  of  Sodom  was  a  pitiful  substitute  for  a 
place  in  Abram's  company,  and  a  share  in  Abram's 
thoughts  and  faith.  And  the  end  was  a  ruined 
home,  a  desolate  life,  and  a  broken  heart. 

Which  is  the  wiser  choice  ?  Paul  and  a  Poman 
prison  and  Jesus  Christ — or  Demas  and  the  present 
world  and  an  apostate's  mind?  Abram  and  the 
barren  hillside  and  God — or  Lot  and  the  cities  of 
the  plain  and  Sodom's  shame  ? 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

There  Jiath  no  temptation  taken  you  but  such  as  is  common  to  man  : 
but  God  is  faithful  who  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  above  that 
ye  are  able;  but  will  with  the  temptation  also  make  a  way  to  escape, 
that  ye  may  be  able  to  bear  it. — 1  Corinthians  x.  13. 

St.  Paul,  in  dealing  with  the  special  dangers  and 
temptations  of  the  Corinthian  Church,  points  to  the 
early  history  of  Israel  to  warn  and  reprove.  He 
mentions  four  sins  of  the  Israelites  as  corresponding 
to  similar  temptations  in  Corinth — idolatry,  impurity 
of  life,  unbelief,  and  murmuring.  The  punishment 
of  these  sins  as  recorded  in  the  story  of  Israel  is 
no  idle  tale,  but,  St.  Paul  declares,  has  its  bearing  on 
the  circumstances  of  the  Corinthian  Church.  "All 
these  things  happened  unto  them  for  examples,  and 
they  are  written  for  our  admonition  upon  whom  the 
ends  of  the  world  are  come."  There  follows,  there- 
fore, a  statement  of  the  true  attitude  towards  temp- 
tation for  the  guidance  of  the  Christian  converts. 

The  first  word  is  one  of  warning'.  "Let  him  that 
thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall" — a  re- 

54 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION     55 

buke  of  all  presumption  and  wanton  self-trust.  One 
invariable  petition  of  every  Christian  prayer  must 
be,  Lead  us  not  into  temptation !  The  more  we  know 
our  own  hearts  and  our  own  weakness,  the  less  open 
will  we  be  to  the  overweening  vanity  which  courts 
danger.  The  very  first  princij^le  of  the  right  way 
to  look  at  temptation  is  a  distrust  of  self.  It  is  not 
for  us  to  enter  lightly  and  wilfully  into  contact  with 
evil,  in  prurient  curiosity,  or  in  self-confident  pre- 
sumption that  w^e  can  touch  pitch  and  not  be  defiled. 
We  cannot  trust  ourselves  to  stand  in  slippery  places 
where  better  men  than  we  have  fallen.  To  the  pure 
all  things  are  pure,  but  are  we  so  certain  of  our 
motives,  our  purity  of  intention,  our  aloofness  of 
soul,  that  we  can  afford  to  neglect  the  warnings  of 
the  wise  ?  A  man  can  come  into  relations  with  the 
darkest  evils  and  festering  corruption  of  life,  if  he 
go  at  the  call  of  duty,  with  pity  in  his  heart,  and 
with  desire  for  service,  but  only  if  he  be  panoplied  by 
the  love  of  Christ,  and  moved  by  Christ's  passion 
for  souls.  Absolutely  the  first  lesson  about  tempta- 
tion in  all  our  tempted  lives  is  this  one  of  warning, 
"Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest 
he  fall." 

There  is  enough  in  this  for  a  sermon;  but  I  press 
on  to  St.  Paul's  second  point,  which  is  one  rather  of 


56      COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

encouragement  than  of  warning.  The  first  lesson  is 
not  sufficient;  for  it  can  only  refer  to  some  sorts  of 
temptations,  those  which  we  can  avoid  by  careful 
picking  of  our  way.  But  with  us  it  is  not  a  case  of 
seeking  temptation — we  are  in  it.  It  presses  us 
round  about,  it  meets  us  at  every  corner.  Tempta- 
tion is  our  environment,  as  much  with  us  as  the  air 
we  breathe.  Have  we  to  avoid  it,  to  flee  from  it  in 
a  panic  of  terror  ?  l^ay,  says  St.  Paul,  we  are  not  to 
seek  it;  and  we  are  not  to  fear  it.  So,  after  the 
warning  comes  this  word  of  encouragement,  "There 
hath  no  temptation  taken  you  but  such  as  is  common 
to  man,"  or  "such  as  man  can  bear"  as  the  Revised 
Version  translates  it;  literally  "such  as  is  according 
to  man."  That  itself  is  a  great  comfort  to  sorely 
tried  men,  who  have  been  called  to  be  holy,  and  have 
been  suffering  from  the  plague  of  their  own  hearts 
and  the  seductions  of  evil  around  them.  St.  Paul  as- 
sures the  Corinthians  that  their  temptations  are  not 
unprecedented,  nothing  extraordinary,  no  unlieard-of 
dangers  and  difficulties.  They  are  the  common  lot 
of  man,  tlie  fire  through  which  the  ore  is  purified 
from  the  dross. 

A  young  man  thinks  his  situation  is  unique,  that 
no  one  else  has  ever  experienced  the  torment  of 
awakened  passions,  or  that  he  is  afflicted  by  a  brand- 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION      57 

new  type  of  doubt:  nobody  has  ever  thought  his 
thoughts,  or  feared  his  fears,  or  doubted  his  doubts. 
He  proceeds  to  make  excuses  for  himself  on  the 
score  of  his  peculiar  and  exceptional  circumstances, 
an  unexampled  temptation  irresistible  for  flesh  and 
blood,  and  he  thinks  he  may  be  excused  for  giving 
way.  How  much  more  cause  had  the  Corinthians 
to  argue  like  this  when  temptation  to  them  meant 
all  the  seductions  of  pagan  life,  all  the  allurements 
associated  with  idolatry,  and  in  addition  the  perse- 
cutions from  outside  to  those  who  gave  up  the 
popular  idolatries!  They  might  well  imagine  that 
their  condition  was  unprecedented,  and  that  they 
could  hardly  be  blamed  for  seeking  some  compromise. 
!N'ay,  says  the  Apostle,  it  is  the  same  fight  all  the 
world  over.  The  same  temptations  strike  the  same 
weak  spot  in  the  human  heart,  the  same  voices  sound 
in  men's  ears,  and  the  same  desires  make  the  same 
insistent  appeal.  There  hath  no  temptation  taken 
you  but  such  as  is  common  to  man. 

There  is  comfort  in  this  thought.  George  Borrow 
relates  how  Lavengro  met  Peter,  the  Welsh  lay 
preacher,  who,  though  he  led  others  to  peace  and 
pardon,  thought  himself  a  castaway.  He  believed 
that  when  he  was  a  child  he  had  sinned  the  unpar- 
donable sin,  and  his  life  was  clouded  ever  after  with 


58      COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

the  thought  of  the  unparalleled  depravity  which 
made  him,  a  child  of  seven,  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost,  It  began  at  school  with  his  looking  upon 
his  schoolfellows  with  a  kind  of  gloomy  superiority, 
considering  himself  a  lone  monstrous  "being  who  had 
committed  a  sin  far  above  the  daring  of  any  of  them ; 
and  afterwards,  though  he  could  bring  peace  and 
comfort  to  others,  he  never  could  find  it  himself. 
Lavengro  told  him  that  in  all  probability  even  at 
school  the  other  children  Avere  looking  upon  him 
with  much  the  same  eyes  as  he  looked  on  them ;  and 
that  his  feeling  was  of  very  common  occurrence 
among  children.  This  was  a  new  light  to  Peter,  and 
was  the  beginning  of  a  happier  state  of  mind.  His 
wife  told  Lavengro  the  blessed  effect  of  his  words, 
that  they  had  altered  the  current  of  his  ideas.  "He 
no  longer  thinks  himself  the  only  being  in  the  world 
doomed  to  destruction — the  only  being  capable  of 
committing  the  never-to-be-forgiven  sin.  Your 
supposition  that  that  which  harrowed  his  soul  is  of 
frequent  occurrence  among  children  has  tranquillised 
him ;  the  mist  which  hung  over  his  mind  has  cleared 
away,  and  he  begins  to  see  the  groundlessness  of  his 
apprehensions.  The  Lord  has  permitted  him  co  be 
chastened  for  a  season,  but  his  lamp  will  only  burn 
the  brighter  for  what  he  has  undergone."     The  next 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION     59 

Sunday  Peter's  sermon  moved  all  his  hearers  to 
tears,  as  he  preached  to  them  of  the  Power,  Provi- 
dence, and  Goodness  of  God. 

But  the  comfort  and  strength  of  the  thought  is 
not  that  our  trial  is  common  to  men  and  our  temp- 
tations are  the  human  temptations,  but  that  other 
men  have  triumphed,  and  that  we  too  by  the  same 
means  can  triumph.  The  temptations  are  not  only 
such  as  are  common  to  man,  but  also  such  as  man 
can  hear.  Men  have  been  there  before,  and  by 
the  grace  of  God  have  emerged,  have  found  a  way 
of  escape.  It  is  human  to  be  tempted :  it  is  human 
to  withstand  temptation.  The  trial  is  designed  not 
that  we  may  fall,  but  that  we  may  rise.  It  is  not 
merely  to  try  us,  to  test  the  stuff  of  which  we  are 
made,  but  also  to  provide  the  occasion  for  producing 
stronger  moral  thews  and  sinews. 

There  is  this  further  comfort  that  temptation  has 
its  limits  if  a  man  be  but  true.  "God  is  faithful,  who 
will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  above  that  ye 
are  able."  The  finest  commentary  I  know  on  this 
passage  is  a  great  sentence  from  one  of  Johnson's 
Essays,  which  Boswell  says  he  never  read  without 
feeling  his  frame  thrill :  "I  think  there  is  some  reason 
for  questioning  whether  the  body  and  mind  are  not 
so  proportioned,  that  the  one  can  bear  all  which  can 


60      COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

be  inflicted  on  the  other;  whether  virtue  cannot 
stand  its  ground  as  long  as  life,  and  whether  a  soul 
well  principled  will  not  be  sooner  separated  than 
subdued."  It  is  a  noble  thought  whether  it  be  uni- 
versally true  or  not,  and  it  is  the  strong  root  of 
Stoicism  and  a  still  deeper  principle  of  the  Christian 
life.  We  need  to  be  braced  by  such  a  manly  senti- 
ment, which  may  be,  Boswell  thinks,  bark  and  steel 
for  the  mind.  We  take  so  naturally  the  easy  way, 
and  give  up  the  burden  of  being  men  in  the  highest 
sense.  There  is  a  courage  which  is  only  another 
name  for  faith.  Many  a  battle  is  lost  before  the 
soldier  leaves  his  tent.  The  first  step  to  victory  is 
to  believe  that  the  battle  need  not  be  lost  at  all.  In 
many  modern  novels,  which  call  themselves  studies 
of  life  but  are  only  studies  of  disease,  it  is  assumed 
that  to  prove  the  presence  of  temptation  is  enough 
to  explain  and  to  excuse  any  moral  collapse.  We 
need  the  reassertion  of  the  manly  creed  that  virtue 
can  stand  its  ground  as  long  as  life,  and  that  no  man 
is  tempted  above  that  he  is  able.  To  a  true  man 
there  will  ever  be  sufficient  aid  to  withstand  in  the 
evil  day,  and  having  done  all  and  fought  all  still  to 
stand.  At  any  rate  Christian's  armour,  you  remem- 
ber, is  contrived  to  protect  from  wounds  only  in  the 
front. 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION      61 

A  man  came  to  Sir  Andrew  Clark  complaining  of 
depression,  inability  to  do  his  work,  and  that  he  was 
tempted  to  rely  on  stimulants.  Sir  Andrew  saw  the 
perilous  state  and  forbade  resort  to  stimulants,  and 
when  the  patient  declared  that  he  would  be  unequal 
to  his  work  and  would  sink,  he  replied,  "Then  sink 
like  a  man."  We  need  to  have  done  with  the  servile 
creed  that  we  must  retire  gracefully  at  the  point  of 
least  resistance,  that  we  must  follow  our  impulses, 
and  give  in  softly  to  every  over-mastering  tempta- 
tion. The  master  will  soon  find  a  cowed  and  humble 
slave  at  that  rate.  Strength  is  got  through  the 
strain.  It  is  only  when  there  is  hard  and  close  fibre 
that  a  strong,  enduring  character  can  be  cut  out. 
Each  life  has  its  own  besetting  temptations,  its  owti 
share  of  trial,  and  is  menaced  somewhere  by  danger. 
That  is  the  natural  environment  for  growth  in  grace 
and  in  gracious  life.  It  is  the  common  human  ex- 
perience for  the  training  of  character,  for  the  making 
of  true  manhood  and  womanhood.  To  refuse  to  see 
the  discipline  is  to  empty  life  of  any  moral  signifi- 
cance, and  even  to  empty  life  of  any  meaning  at  all. 
But  when  we  have  a  glimmering  of  the  great  and 
inspiring  thought  that  this  is  the  will  of  God  for  us, 
even  our  sanctification,  we  see  how  it  must  be,  as 
St.  Paul  asserts,  that  "God  is  faithful,  who  will  not 


62      COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

Buffer  us  to  be  tempted  above  that  we  are  able,  but 
will  with  the  temptation  also  make  a  way  of  escape 
that  we  may  be  able  to  bear  it." 

This  is  what  faith  does  to  a  man  in  the  dark  hour 
of  temptation.  It  does  not  remove  the  temptation 
altogether,  which  has  still  to  be  borne,  but  it  makes 
a  man  able  to  bear  it.  It  gives  him  courage  and 
hope,  and  points  ever  to  a  way  of  escape.  Without 
faith  a  man  is  in  a  cul-de-sac — a  ''blind  alley"  that 
leads  nowhere,  a  blind  alley  without  outlet  where, 
when  he  is  hard  bestead,  he  fears  he  may  be  killed 
like  a  rat.  It  is  enough  for  a  man  to  see  an  open 
way,  that  there  is  a  road  out.  Let  him  but  see  a 
gleam  of  blue  beyond,  and  he  is  content  to  endure 
and  fight.  Faith  assures  him  that  there  must  be  a 
way  of  escape,  and  when  he  knows  that,  then  he  is 
able  to  bear  the  present  trial,  or  affliction,  or  tempta- 
tion. He  is  sure  of  reinforcement  just  when  the 
fight  is  fiercest,  and  he  can  endure  as  seeing  Him 
who  is  invisible.  He  knows  that  it  is  by  no  chance 
that  he  is  put  in  his  corner  of  the  field,  and  God  is 
faithful  and  in  His  own  time  will  make  the  way  of 
escape. 

"The  door  is  open,"  said  the  Stoic,  meaning  that 
at  the  worst  there  was  always  suicide  by  which  a 
man  could  cheat  misfortune   when   it  became    too 


COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION      63 

hard  to  bear.  That  is  the  craven  way  of  escape  when 
life  becomes  intolerable,  and  trials  too  dreadful  and 
temptations  too  sore.  It  is  the  refuge  of  the  coward, 
or  rather  the  refuge  of  unbelief  that  does  not  see 
the  meaning  of  trial  and  the  wide-open  door  of  a 
Father's  love.  There  is  in  every  moral  conflict  a 
way  of  escape  other  than  the  way  of  dishonour  or 
defeat,  and  craven  as  we  are  we  need  the  strident 
note  of  rebuke,  "Ye  have  not  resisted  unto  blood 
striving  against  sin."  Take  courage.  Man's  extrem- 
ity is  God's  opportunity.  The  door  is  open ;  and  we 
can  win  it  yet,  if  we  will  be  faithful.  When  we  are 
at  the  end  of  our  resources,  the  deliverance  comes. 

"In  the  valley  of  Humiliation  poor  Christian  was 
hard  put  to  it,  for  he  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before 
he  espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to  meet 
him ;  his  name  is  Apollyon.  And  Apollyon  straddled 
quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way,  and  a 
sore  combat  lasted  for  above  half  a  day,  even  till 
Christian  was  quite  spent.  Then  Apollyon  espying 
his  opportunity  began  to  gather  up  close  to  Christian 
and  wrestling  with  him  gave  him  a  dreadful  fall ; 
and  with  that  Christian's  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand. 
Then  said  Apollyon,  I  am  sure  of  thee  now.  But  as 
God  would  have  it,  while  Apollyon  was  fetching  of 
his  last  blow.   Christian  nimbly   stretched   out   his 


64      COMFORT    IN    TEMPTATION 

Imiid  for  his  sword  and  caught  it,  saying,  Rejoice  not 
against  me,  O  mine  enemy ;  when  I  fall  I  shall  arise, 
and  with  that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust.  Christian 
seeing  that,  made  at  him  again,  saying,  l^ay,  in  all 
things  we  are  more  than  conquerors  through  Him 
that  loved  us.  And  with  that  Apollyon  spread  forth 
his  dragon  wings  and  sped  him  away  that  Christian 
for  a  season  saw  him  no  more." 

Take  the  whole  armour  of  God,  prayer,  and  watch- 
ing, and  courage,  and  hope,  the  shield  of  faith,  the 
helmet  of  salvation,  the  sword  of  the  Spirit.  Be  sure 
that  God  is  faithful  and  will  not  suffer  you  to  be 
tempted  above  that  ye  are  able.  Know  that  there 
is  always  a  way  of  escape,  an  open  door  into  the  peace 
of  victory.  The  victory  and  the  peace  come  through 
the  assurance  of  God,  when  the  tempted  soul  knows 
that  the  Lord  Christ  stands  by  him  in  the  terrible 
hour.  "For  sudden  the  worst  turns  the  best  to  the 
brave." 


VI 

THE    AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

Te  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might  Jiave  life. — St.  John  v.  40. 

Our  Lord  in  making  His  appeal  to  the  Jews  points 
to  the  evidence  which  should  be  enough  to  convince 
them.  He  takes  them  on  their  own  ground,  and  uses 
evidence  which  they  themselves  admit.  He  first 
refers  to  the  evidence  of  John  the  Baptist,  whom 
they  profess  to  believe  to  have  been  a  man  of  God 
and  a  prophet.  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining 
light,  and  they  were  willing  for  a  season  to  rejoice 
in  his  light.  John  bare  witness  to  the  truth,  he 
himself  declared  that  he  was  nothing  but  a  voice, 
testifying  to  Christ,  a  forerunner  of  the  King  who 
was  coming  after  him.  If  they  believed  John  to 
be  what  they  professed  he  was,  they  ought  to  have 
accepted  his  testimony. 

But  John's  witness  was,  after  all,  only  external 
evidence,  and  our  Lord  does  not  lay  stress  on  it. 
Rather,  He  says,  "I  receive  not  testimony  from 
man" ;  meaning  that  the  essential  evidence  to  which 

65 


66      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

He  appeals  is  not  from  the  outside,  but  spiritual 
evidence,  the  evidence  of  the  fitness  of  His  work 
and  life.  If  they  understood  anything  of  God's  real 
nature  and  mind,  they  would  see  that  He  the  Son 
was  revealing  the  Father.  It  was  the  Father's  works 
He  was  doing,  and  they  should  bear  witness  that 
the  Father  had  sent  Him.  That  would  be  the  effect 
of  these  works  of  mercy  and  power,  if  only  they,  the 
Jews,  had  any  spiritual  insight. 

And  further  our  Lord  appeals  to  their  own  Scrip- 
tures, which  they  reverenced  and  made  an  idol. 
They  could  not  read  even  their  o^vn  Scriptures  with- 
out seeing  that  they  testified  of  Him,  if  they  were 
not  shutting  up  their  minds  with  prejudice.  Dili- 
gent students  of  the  Old  Testament  as  they  were, 
it  was  only  the  letter  of  it  they  paid  heed  to,  and 
let  the  spirit  slip  from  their  grasp.  Their  own  Bible 
was  Christo-centric,  finding  its  meaning,  and  fulfil- 
ment, and  ultimate  justification  in  Christ.  "The 
testimony  of  Jesus  is  the  spirit  of  prophecy,"  as  St. 
John  says  in  the  Revelation.  Without  Christ  the 
Old  Testament  is  only  a  torso,  an  unfinished  broken 
trunk  of  the  perfected  figure.  And  yet  they  refused 
to  admit  what  alone  made  their  much-reverenced 
Scriptures  intelligible. 

What  more  could  be  done  for  them  in  the  way 


AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL      67 

of  evidence  ?  They  had  the  witness  of  one  of  their 
own  prophets,  of  whom  they  were  proud ;  the  witness 
of  their  own  conscience  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  actual  life  and  works  of  Jesus;  the  witness  of 
their  own  Scriptures,  which  they  acknowledged  to 
be  the  word  of  God.  And  yet  they  rejected  their 
Saviour,  wilfully,  almost  malignantly.  In  spite  of 
such  cumulative  testimony,  this  is  the  sad  conclusion 
which  our  Lord  draws,  "Ye  will  not  come  to  Me  that 
ye  might  have  life."  In  spite  of  all  evidence,  in  spite 
of  the  Father's  purpose,  in  spite  of  the  Saviour's 
sacrifice,  in  spite  of  all  that  love  could  do,  man's  will 
stood  like  an  invincible  barrier  and  frustrated  the 
grace  of  God.  It  was  not  from  want  of  knowledge, 
from  lack  of  sufficient  evidence,  but  from  lack  of 
will.  They  did  not  desire  to  open  their  minds  to 
the  new  light,  and  burden  their  lives  with  new  duties. 
Against  the  very  Spirit  of  God  they  raised  the  ram- 
parts of  a  stubborn  will.  "Ye  will  not  come  to  Me," 
says  our  Lord,  accepting  human  will  as  an  ultimate, 
a  final  fact  in  the  disposal  of  His  claims. 

That  this  should  be  so,  that  man  should  have 
such  terrible  power,  seems  the  great  mystery  of  our 
life ;  and  yet  it  cannot  be  otherwise  if  we  are  to 
remain  men.     This  place  and  power  of  human  will 


68      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

we  must  recognise.  On  the  human  side  will  is  an 
ultimate  in  religion.  It  is  a  basal  fact  of  life.  We 
cannot  get  past  it.  So  far  as  we  have  the  disposing 
of  ourselves,  it  is  our  will  that  disposes.  All  our 
thinking  and  all  our  acting  are  more  or  less  under 
its  control.  It  is  the  only  real  power  over  which 
we  have  control.  By  our  will  we  command  our- 
selves to  act  in  any  given  case.  Beneath  an  act 
there  is  the  thought  that  moves  it;  beneath  the 
thought  there  is  the  will  that  commands  it;  but 
deeper  down  than  that  we  cannot  go.  Will  sums  up 
for  us  all  that  makes  us  ourselves,  the  very  essence 
of  personality.  It  means  the  controlling,  dominat- 
ing power  of  life. 

In  practical  ethics  there  is  nothing  beneath  or 
beyond  the  will.  All  action  must  be  regarded  as 
the  fruit  of  the  will.  In  common  language  we  some- 
times speak  of  having  no  will  about  any  particular 
matter,  and  even  sometimes  speak  of  doing  a  thing 
against  our  will;  but  these  are  only  inaccuracies  of 
speech.  We  may  do  an  act  against  our  judgment, 
and  against  what  we  admit  should  be  our  will,  against 
the  better  part  of  our  nature ;  but  all  the  same  the 
will  is  the  responsible  agent  of  the  act.  Sometimes 
there  is  no  recognisable  effort  of  will ;  it  may  be 
done  unconsciously.     A  particular  class  of  acts  may 


AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL      69 

have  through  long-continued  use  become  organised 
into  habit,  until  they  are  done  without  thought  or 
conscious  will ;  or  even  the  force  of  habit  or  the 
appeal  of  desire  may  be  so  strong  as  to  overpower 
the  will.  But  it  is  the  will  nevertheless  which 
operates.  We  may  and  do  often  deceive  ourselves, 
thinking  that  the  citadel  of  our  will  is  intact  though 
we  have  surrendered  to  evil  in  life,  by  pretending 
that  a  course  of  action  is  against  our  will  and  due 
to  some  necessity  of  our  environment.  But  that 
only  means  that  the  particular  motive  or  temptation 
has  advanced  sufficiently  strong  inducements  to 
capture  the  power  of  will.  When  Romeo  went  to 
the  old  apothecary  to  purchase  poison,  without  dis- 
guising that  the  poison  was  to  be  used  for  an  illegal 
object,  Shakespeare  makes  the  apothecary  give  the 
poison  for  the  sake  of  the  reward,  using  this  very 
temptation  we  are  discussing  as  a  salve  to  his  con- 
science, ''My  poverty  and  not  my  will  consents." 
JSTay,  it  was  against  his  conscience,  against  his  better 
judgment,  but  not  against  his  will.  The  temptation 
was  too  strong  for  his  will ;  and  the  selling  of  the 
poison  to  be  used  for  suicide  was  his  will.  The 
poverty  was  only  the  motive  which  drove  his  will 
in  that  direction. 

We  see  how  in  all  questions  of  morals  we  come 


70      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

back  to  the  will,  and  fasten  responsibility  there. 
If  it  were  not  for  this,  there  could  be  no  such 
thing  as  moral  responsibility.  Our  conduct,  like 
ourselves,  is  the  result  of  the  action  of  many 
forces,  tendencies  of  heredity,  environment,  educa- 
tion. So  much  is  this  recognised  that  we  are  in 
danger  of  forgetting  the  judgment  seat  we  each 
possess,  and  the  power  of  initiative  we  have  in  our 
will.  We  might  seem  to  be  the  passive  sport  of 
fate,  if  it  were  not  for  our  will.  This  is  the  only 
place  we  can  interfere,  so  to  speak.  It  is  to  the 
will  of  man  a  preacher  must  address  himself  in 
the  last  instance.  We  may  appeal  to  reason,  and 
to  feeling,  but  these  are  only  to  supply  the  neces- 
sary motive  to  the  will.  So  all-important  is  the 
will  in  the  moral  judgment  of  a  man  that  we  can 
say  as  an  unerring  test  that  according  to  the 
character  of  the  will  is  the  character  of  the  life. 
The  philosopher  Kant  implied  this  when  he  de- 
clared that  there  is  nothing  o:ood  in  the  world 
but  a  good  w^ill,  and  nothing  evil  in  the  world 
but  an  evil  will.  In  this  sense  will  does  not  mean 
merely  an  isolated  act  of  will  done  in  the  heat  of 
a  single  emotion,  nor  even  a  series  of  acts,  but  the 
bent  it  has  received  and  the  quality  it  now  possesses 
through  repeated  acts. 


AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL      71 

When  we  think  of  it,  we  see  that  it  is  only  just 
that  the  judgment  of  a  life  should  be  according 
to  the  character  of  the  will.  It  would  be  at  the 
best  a  very  shallow  principle  of  judgment  to  take 
anything  else,  the  outward  acts,  for  example.  For 
an  act  may  in  itself  be  good,  but  the  motive  at 
the  bottom  of  it  be  evil,  and  the  will  which 
induced  it  be  absolutely  selfish.  Of  course  in 
the  long  run  a  good  will  must  result  in  a  good  life ; 
and  in  the  long  run  nothing  but  a  good  will 
can  result  in  a  good  life.  The  character  of  the 
life  is  determined  by  the  character  of  the  will. 
Even  in  worldly  business  we  know  how  men  are 
separated  into  classes  by  differences  of  will.  One 
man  is  of  what  we  call  a  strong  will,  knowing 
what  he  means  and  wants,  and  usually  getting  it. 
The  man  of  irresolute  will  is  also  of  feckless  life. 
But  ethically  the  distinction  is  not  so  much  one 
of  amount  of  will,  as  one  of  quality.  For  great 
and  magnificent  goodness,  strength  of  will  is  needed 
as  well  as  right  quality.  But  when  the  will  is 
evil,  the  stronger  it  is,  the  further  astray  it  leads 
a  man.  So  that  morally  the  point  on  which  we 
must  fix  our  attention  is  the  character  of  the  will. 

You  will  see  at  once  that  this  means  a  revelation 
of  the  life.     When  the  mainspring  of  a  man  is  an 


72      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

evil  will,  when  tho  will  is  tainted,  tlio  very  source 
and  fountain  of  life  is  polluted.  This  is  not  a 
matter  of  mere  weakness  of  will.  A  man  may  be 
weak,  and  yet  desire  the  highest,  long  for  it;  and 
it  may  be  the  sorrow  of  his  heart,  the  keenest 
pang  of  his  days  and  nights,  that  while  to  will  is 
present  with  him,  to  perform  that  which  is  good 
is  not,  yet  God  knows  he  yearns  after  purity,  and 
with  tears  and  prayers  seeks  the  holiness  of  God. 
Worse  than  weakness  of  will  is  wickedness  of  will. 
Worse  than  when  a  man  knows  good  and  wills  it, 
and  fails  in  the  doing — infinitely  worse  is  it  when 
there  is  no  will  for  good.  Deepest  of  all  depths 
is  it  when  the  will  itself  is  evil ;  when  a  man  says 
to  himself,  "Evil,  be  thou  my  good." 

In  a  very  true  sense  (blessed  be  His  gracious 
and  merciful  name!)  God  takes  the  will  for  the 
deed.  So  weak  are  we,  so  hampered  and  harassed 
by  the  temptations  of  heart  and  life,  how  often 
have  all  God's  children  to  lament  with  St.  Paul, 
"The  good  that  I  would  I  do  not,  and  the  evil 
which  I  would  not,  I  do."  But  God  does  not  judge 
us  by  our  achievement  but  by  our  aspiration,  not 
by  our  sin  but  by  our  repentance,  not  by  what  is 
seen  by  the  world  but  what  is  in  our  heart,  not 
by  the  goal  we  reach  but  by  the  goal  we  aim  at, 


AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL      73 

not  by  what  we  have  attained  but  by  what  we 
follow  after,  not  by  onr  failure  but  by  our  will. 
In  this  sense  it  is  true  that  there  is  nothing  good  in 
the  world  but  a  good  will. 

If  then  it  is  in  the  region  of  the  will  that  men 
are  tested,  if  the  difference  between  a  good  will 
and  an  evil  will  is  as  the  difference  between  heaven 
and  hell,  what  is  it  makes  a  will  good  or  evil? 
And  how  is  this  good  will  to  be  acquired?  The 
answer  to  this  question  is  the  answer  to  both 
questions.  A  good  will  is  in  Bible  language  a  will 
"conformed  to  the  will  of  God."  Our  will  is  safe- 
guarded and  inspired,  protected  and  driven  by  the 
will  of  God.  This  is  the  psychology  of  the  Christian 
life,  "It  is  God  who  worketh  in  you  to  will."  The 
will,  that  is  so  given  to  God  and  kept  by  God  and 
filled  by  God,  is  safe  and  grows  into  strength  and 
beauty.  This  is  no  exceptional  thing,  peculiar, 
miraculous.  It  is  a  fact  of  common  experience 
that  our  will  can  influence  and  dominate  others, 
and  that  we  can  be  dominated  by  another  will. 
This  is  the  basis  of  all  leadership,  and  the  expla- 
nation of  many  of  the  psychical  phenomena  of 
telepathy  and  thought-reading,  so  far  as  there  is 
any  truth  in  these.  To  have  close  fellowship  with 
a  great  soul,  to  be  inspired  by  a  great  will,  is  to 


74      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

be  lifted  to  a  higher  phme  of  living.  In  varying 
degrees  we  see  this  everywhere,  with  the  strong 
general  and  his  army,  with  the  true  leader  of  men 
and  his  followers,  with  the  heaven-born  teacher 
and  disciples,  with  the  orator  and  his  audience,  and 
with  all  inspiring  friendships. 

When  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  us  to  will,  we 
have  the  Christian  life;  we  can  understand  heroic 
living;  we  can  explain  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
the  triumphs  of  grace,  the  victories  of  the  Cross. 
St.  Paul's  statement  is  the  statement  of  a  scientific 
fact,  "I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that 
strengtheneth  me."  A  Christ-inspired  will,  a 
Christ-directed  will,  a  will  so  conformed  to  His 
that  "it  is  no  longer  I  but  Christ  that  liveth  in 
me,"  that  is  the  Christian  ideal,  and  the  Christian 
task  of  life.  It  is  not,  as  is  so  often  the  case 
among  men,  the  abject  subjection  of  the  will  by 
which  it  is  bent  and  broken.  It  is  the  full,  joyous, 
free  submission  to  a  higher  law,  bringing  power, 
strengthening  itself  at  the  Source  of  all  strength. 

But  the  will  is  free  and  has  to  be  freely  given. 
We  are  the  masters  of  our  fate  to  this  extent. 
The  evidence  that  Christ  can  be  to  us  what  He 
claims  may  be  complete ;  reason  may  be  satisfied, 
feeling  may  be   moved.   His   appeal  may  come   to 


AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL      75 

us  with  such  insistence  and  such  force  that  we 
quiver  under  it;  and  yet  He  may  have  to  say  of 
us  as  of  the  Pharisees  of  His  day,  "Ye  will  not 
come  unto  Me  that  ye  might  have  life." 

Conscious  religion  begins  as  an  act  of  will. 
Until  the  will  asserts  itself,  faith  is  only  sentiment 
and  idle  emotion.  Religion  begins  at  the  point 
of  decision  when  we  say  with  a  true  heart,  "I 
will" ;  and  the  religious  life  is  the  long  discipline 
in  which  the  will  is  being  conformed  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  so  Christ  is  being  formed  in  us. 

If  the  character  of  your  life  is  determined  by 
the  character  of  your  will,  you  can  set  a  value  on 
your  life  by  asking  yourself  what  is  your  will?  Is 
it  inspired  by  selfishness?  is  it  stubborn  against 
good?  is  it  weak  before  sin,  and  only  strong  before 
holiness  ? 

ISTay,  further,  you  can  get  at  the  value  of  life  by 
narrowing  the  issue  still  more,  by  asking  what  your 
will  is  in  the  presence  of  Christ's  claims  over  you. 
As  He  makes  His  demand  over  your  heart,  as 
He  presents  His  life  of  grace  and  truth,  as  He 
thrills  you  with  the  passion  of  His  love,  as  He 
offers  you  salvation,  as  He  pleads  with  you  by  His 
cross,  as  He  stands  at  the  door  of  your  heart  and 
knocks,   as  He  calls  you   to   a  life   of  discipleship 


76      AUTHORITY    OF    THE    WILL 

and  service ;  what  is  your  will  ?  What  response  do 
you  make  to  the  appeal  of  Christ  to  submit  to  His 
supremacy?  Set  your  own  value  on  your  life  as 
it  is  tested  by  this  crucial  trial. 

May  it  be  said  of  you,  as  of  the  Master  Himself, 
"Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  O  God." 

Or  must  the  Saviour  say  of  you  as  one  of  a  stiff- 
necked  generation,  "Ye  will  not  come  unto  Me  that 
ye  might  have  life"  ? 


VII 

THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

Thy  statutes  have  been  my  songs  in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage. 
— Psalm  cxix.  54. 

This  verse  is  the  keynote  to  this  wonderful  Psalm, 
and  in  a  very  real  and  deep  sense  is  the  keynote 
to  the  whole  Psalter.  The  Psalmist  may  well  say 
that  God's  statutes  have  been  his  songs,  when  the 
one  and  only  subject  of  his  Psalm  is  the  praise  of 
the  divine  law.  Every  verse  of  it  lovingly  circles 
round  the  contemplation  of  God's  law,  with  mar- 
vellous variety  expressing  to  his  own  happy  heart 
its  priceless  value.  His  one  subject  is  praise  of 
the  law,  the  duty  of  studying  it,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  following  it.  He  never  gets  away  from 
that,  not  for  a  single  verse.  The  law  covers  his 
whole  life.  There  is  nothing  outside  of  the  blessed 
circle,  nothing  the  law  does  not  touch  and  glorify. 
The  subject  of  all  his  songs  is  God's  law,  its 
beauty  and  joy  and  peace,  its  power  to  control 
and  direct  and  comfort.  Life  is  a  house  of  pil- 
grimage,   a    brief    time    of    trial,    and    such    songs 

77 


78        THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

refresh  him  and  sustain  him.  Life  is  a  night  of 
sleeplessness,  and  such  songs  beguile  the  waiting 
hours  and  solace  his  weariness.  Life  is  a  journey, 
and  the  road  is  long  and  sometimes  hard,  but  such 
songs  enliven  every  step  of  the  way.  And  what 
are  these  magic  songs  ?  They  are  the  statutes 
turned  into  music,  the  commandments  delivered  in 
perfect  harmony,  the  law  bursting  into  song,  filling 
the  singing  heart  with  joy  till  the  whole  world  joins 
in  the  harmony  and  reflects  back  the  radiance. 

The  verse  is  also  in  one  respect  typical  of  the 
whole  Psalter.  The  Book  of  Psalms  is  in  five  Books, 
to  correspond  with  the  Pentateuch,  the  five  Books 
of  the  Law.  This  attempted  correspondence  to  the 
Pentateuch  is  in  a  sense  only  formal  so  far  as 
numbers  go,  but  it  is  also  very  natural  and  appro- 
priate. The  Psalter  is  the  flower  of  the  law,  reflects 
the  essential  spirit  of  Old  Testament  religion,  repre- 
sents its  best  and  highest  moods.  The  division  of 
the  Psalter  into  five  Books  expresses  a  great  and 
true  thought;  for  the  Psalter  is  indeed  the  other 
side  to  the  law,  the  completion  of  it,  the  response 
to  it.  A  hymn  is  the  true  fruit  of  a  commandment. 
The  Pentateuch  states  God's  will  for  man;  and  the 
Psalter  is  man's  reply  to  it,  man's  adoration  of  God. 
It  is  the  answer  made  by  religious  Israel  to  the 


THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC        79 

demands  of  Jehovah  in  the  law.  Statutes  need  to 
be  turned  into  songs  before  their  work  can  be 
completed.  The  note  is  struck  in  the  very  first 
Psalm,  which  speaks  of  the  blessedness  of  loving 
the  Law  and  the  curse  of  hating  it.  The  Psalter 
is  the  blossom  of  the  Law,  preparing  for  its  perfect 
fruit  in  obedient  and  joyful  hearts.  When  the  law 
of  God  is  turned  into  songs  in  this  the  house  of 
our  pilgrimage,  it  has  reached  its  destined  end. 
Thus  this  verse  is  really  typical  of  the  whole  Psalter. 
"If  people,"  wrote  Ruskin,  in  Modern  Painters, 
"would  but  read  the  text  of  their  Bible  with  heartier 
purpose  of  understanding  it,  instead  of  super- 
stitiously,  they  would  see  that  throughout  the  parts 
which  they  are  intended  to  make  most  personally 
their  own  (the  Psalms)  it  is  always  the  law  which 
is  spoken  of  with  chief  joy.  The  Psalms  respecting 
mercy  are  often  sorrowful  as  in  thought  of  what 
it  cost;  but  those  respecting  the  law  are  always 
full  of  delight.  David  cannot  contain  himself 
for  joy  in  thinking  of  it — he  is  never  weary  of  its 
praise :  "How  love  I  Thy  law !  it  is  my  medita- 
tion all  the  day.  Thy  testimonies  are  my  delight 
and  my  counsellors;  sweeter  also  than  honey  and 
the  honeycomb."  Our  text,  then,  is  spiritually  set 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  Psalter,  and  in  the  very 


80        THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

centre  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  law  is  really 
obeyed,  when  it  is  no  longer  mere  rule  and  precept, 
and  no  longer  something  to  be  feared  as  when  it 
flashed  ont  its  solemn  warnings  from  Sinai,  but 
when  it  becomes  a  delight,  as  music  to  the  soul, 
changed  into  inner  harmony,  when  it  is  a  flooding 
passion  of  love  for  the  Law  of  God,  when  the  statutes 
are  turned  into  songs  in  the  house  of  man's  pilgrim- 
age. It  ceases  to  be  law  in  the  rigid  legal  sense,  and 
becomes  perfect  freedom. 

Eletcher  of  Saltoun  said  in  oft-quoted  words, 
"Let  me  make  the  songs  of  a  country,  and  let  who 
will  make  the  laws."  Men  are  moved  and  influenced 
and  touched  to  the  heart  by  true  noble  songs. 
Compared  with  it,  legislation  influences  life  on  the 
outside.  Songs  and  poetry  appeal  to  the  emotions, 
and  can  draw  men  when  the  law  could  not  drive 
them.  The  ideal  is  reached  when,  as  with  the 
Psalmist,  the  highest  dictates  of  the  law  are  trans- 
muted into  music,  when  the  noblest  thoughts  of  duty 
are  made  into  songs. 

Perhaps  it  may  turn  out  a  sang, 
Perhaps  turn  out  a  sermon, 

wrote  Robert  Burns  in  the  first  verse  of  one  of  his 
poems.     The  best  sermons  have  some  of  the  qualities 


THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC        81 

of  the  best  songs — simple,  direct,  going  straight 
to  the  heart,  touching  the  emotions,  making  appeal 
to  the  deepest  feelings  of  hnman  nature,  singing  in 
the  mind,  striking  the  chords  of  the  simple  pri- 
mordial elements.  When  the  law  comes  in  that 
attractive  guise,  not  as  something  to  be  dreaded 
and  sullenly  submitted  to,  but  something  which 
brings  light  and  joy  and  music  to  life,  it  has 
fulfilled  itself.  Obedience  is  in  such  a  case  not  a 
necessity  merely,  but  a  privilege,  an  occasion  of 
rejoicing.  Though  the  sermon  itself  does  not  turn 
out  a  song,  it  achieves  its  purpose  if  it  turns  hearts 
to  singing;  for  praise  is  the  culmination  of  all  the 
powers  of  man.  The  end  of  preaching  is  praying, 
it  has  been  said.  True,  but  the  end  of  praying  is 
praising.  It  is  so  here  in  our  poor  earthly  worship : 
the  purpose  of  both  preaching  and  praying  is 
served  when  men  learn  to  praise  God  with  humble 
and  sincere  and  rejoicing  hearts.  And  it  shall 
be  so  hereafter,  when  "the  redeemed  of  the  Lord 
shall  return  and  come  with  singing  unto  Zion;  and 
everlasting  joy  shall  be  upon  their  head:  they  shall 
obtain  gladness  and  joy;  and  sorrow  and  mourning 
shall  flee  away." 

Our    lives    are    set    in    the    midst    of   law,    even 


82        THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

physically.  We  can  only  live  under  certain  fixed 
conditions.  We  are  in  a  network  of  cause  and 
effect,  governed  and  ruled  and  controlled  by  irref- 
ragable law.  The  secret  of  life,  even  from  a  phys- 
ical basis,  is  to  learn  the  laws  of  the  world  and  sub- 
mit to  them  willingly  and  cheerfully.  To  make  the 
best  of  them  is  the  way  to  make  the  most  of  them. 
Every  advance  in  material  civilisation  consists  in 
discovering  the  laws  that  exist  and  adjusting  our- 
selves to  them.  If  we  were  to  fight  against  them, 
sullenly  acquiescing  in  them  only  when  we,  through 
pain  and  distress,  found  them  to  be  inevitable, 
what  a  miserable  life  we  would  make  of  it !  Imagine 
a  man  always  protesting  against  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation, never  once  accepting  it  as  part  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  he  must  live,  kicking  against 
the  pricks  of  necessity,  an  unhappy  rebel  in  the 
domain  of  nature !  If  we  refu,sed  to  accept  the 
fact  that  water  will  boil  and  that  steam  will  propel, 
we  can  only  sit  down  with  scalded  fingers  and  scowl 
at  the  hateful  phenomenon.  But  if  we  take  it  and 
use  it  and  harness  it  to  the  service  of  man  as  the 
engineer  does,  we  turn  the  statute  into  a  song, 
change  the  blind  force  into  the  poetry  of  motion. 
When  practical  science  turns  a  necessity  into  a 
privilege,  it  has  mastered  the  situation. 


THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC        83 

Similarly,  our  lives  are  set  in  the  midst  of  moral 
law.  Here  too  we  are  governed  and  ruled  and  con- 
trolled. The  secret  of  life  is  to  learn  the  laws  of  life 
and  submit  to  them  willingly  and  cheerfully.  Obey 
them  we  must  or  suffer,  just  as  truly  as  we  must 
obey  physical  laws  or  suffer.  Here  too  everything 
depends  on  the  mood  in  which  we  obey,  the  attitude 
we  take  up  with  regard  to  moral  necessity.  The  law 
of  God  comes  to  us  with  a  categorical  imperative, 
saying  not  Thou  mayest,  thou  shouldest;  but  Thou 
shalt,  thou  must.  We  are  preparing  only  sorrow 
for  ourselves  if  we  live  a  gloomy  rebel  in  the  domain 
of  law,  refusing  to  accept  facts,  to  acknowledge  obli- 
gation. It  does  not  alter  the  facts,  but  only  adds 
pain  to  our  lot.  If  we  chafe  against  duty,  if  we  are 
ever  seeking  a  loophole  where  we  can  transgress, 
we  are  laying  rods  in  pickle  for  our  own  foolish  back. 
Again,  we  may  submit  with  nothing  better  than 
dull  resignation.  We  may  say  in  sullen  tone.  It  is 
the  will  of  God,  and  I  suppose  I  must  surrender. 
We  may  make  a  virtue  of  necessity  in  the  mood  of 
our  phrase  "grin  and  bear."  We  can  creep  about  in 
the  house  of  our  pilgrimage  with  a  lack-lustre  eye, 
in  submission  but  always  in  passive  resistance. 

'Now,  religion  masters  the  situation  by  turning  the 
very  statutes  into  songs,  till  the  house  of  pilgrim- 


84        THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

age  rings  with  music.  Before  asking  bow  it  is  done, 
let  us  be  sure  of  tbe  fact  that  it  has  been  done  and 
can  be  done.  How  often  we  bear  that  trium- 
phant note  in  the  records  of  religion,  when  a  man's 
life  moves  in  harmony  with  the  rhythm  of  God's 
works  and  worlds.  ''O  how  love  I  Thy  law !"  cries 
this  same  Psalmist.  "I  delight  to  do  Thy  will,  O  my 
God,"  sang  another  Psalmist ;  "yea.  Thy  law  is  within 
my  heart."  "His  commandments  are  not  grievous," 
asserted  the  Apostle  John.  Duty,  which  sometimes 
seems  so  irksome  and  heavy,  may  be  transformed 
till  it  is  welcomed  as  a  gracious  guest.  The  burden 
somehow  is  transmuted  into  music.  Duty  so  ac- 
cepted, not  as  a  necessity  merely  but  as  a  joyful 
privilege,  is  transfigured  with  light.  Wordsworth's 
great  Ode  to  Duty  is  not  a  mere  poetic  affectation. 

Steru  Lawgiver!  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace; 
Nor  Isnow  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face: 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds 
And  fragrance  in  tliy  footing  treads. 

When  the  will  of  God  is  accepted  as  a  privilege, 
when  it  is  no  dull  task  to  whicli  we  merely  submit 
but  is  made  our  will  in  eager  desire  and  bounding 
joy,  when  we  take  it  in  cheerful,  willing,  ready  obedi- 


THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC        85 

ence,  we  are  safe — and  only  then  are  we  safe.  The 
statute  has  no  secure  hold  on  us  till  it  sings  in  our 
life  and  is  a  delight.  When  it  is  only  an  external 
thing,  a  matter  of  constraint,  a  routine  duty  per- 
formed without  spring  and  without  heart,  it  has  left 
no  real  and  permanent  mark  on  us.  The  law  has 
begun  to  do  its  perfect  work  on  us,  when  it  is  ac- 
cepted not  in  the  service  of  a  routine  order  but  in  the 
service  which  is  perfect  freedom. 

What  can  do  this?  What  can  turn  the  statutes 
into  songs,  take  the  sting  out  of  the  commandments, 
make  the  will  of  God  a  delight?  When  it  is  all 
transfigured  by  the  glory  of  love.  Love  inspires 
obedience  to  law,  and  makes  it  easy.  If  we  see  law 
not  as  something  external,  an  obligation  imposed  on 
us  from  without,  a  despotism  against  which  we  can- 
not rebel,  and  to  which  we  can  only  sullenly  submit ; 
if  we  see  law  as  the  law  of  our  owai  life,  the  fruit 
of  the  tenderest  and  highest  love,  the  command- 
ments are  seen  not  to  be  grievous,  and  obedience  be- 
comes sweet  and  natural.  We  know  the  difference 
between  obedience  dictated  by  fear  and  obedience 
dictated  by  love.  When  we  are  brought  into  a  per- 
sonal relation  to  God  and  enter  into  fellowship 
with  Him,  we  realise  that  even  in  the  making  of  our 
own  moral  life,  in  the  creating  of  our  own  char- 


86        THE    LAW    SET    TO    MUSIC 

acter,  we  are  fellow-workers  with  God.     We  desire 
the  same  end  as  He  does,  and  it  is  the  best  end. 

The  love  of  Christ  is  the  great  instrument  of 
sanctification ;  for  it  breeds  in  us  a  passion  to  do 
God's  will  and  keep  His  commandments.  "Ye  are 
complete  in  Him,"  says  St.  Paul.  He  fills  out  our 
incompleteness,  and  for  the  first  time  we  feel  that 
we  are  truly  ourselves,  and  for  the  first  time  really 
possess  our  souls,  and  are  in  harmony  with  the  great 
end  of  our  existence.  When  our  heart  is  enlarged 
we  can  run  in  the  way  of  God's  commandments.  Life 
breaks  out  into  music  and  light.  The  obedience 
which  the  law  demands,  which  at  first  promised  only 
to  bring  constraint  and  a  gloomy  darkening  of  life's 
joy,  is  the  spring  of  happiness  and  peace.  In  the 
joy  of  reconcilement  we  are  in  accord  with  God's 
will  for  us,  and  are  in  tune  with  the  whole  universe. 
We  know  the  service  which  is  perfect  freedom.  The 
house  of  our  pilgrimage  is  made  glad  with  music. 
Life  laughs  back  its  radiance  in  the  sunshine  of 
God's  smile.  If  we  could  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"O  how  love  I  Thy  law!"  we  would  have  no  diflS- 
culty  in  understanding  how  he  would  say,  "Thy 
statutes  have  been  my  songs  in  the  house  of  my 
pilgrimage." 


VIII 

THE    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

Wisdom  is  before  the  face  of  Mm  that  hath  understanding:  but 
tlie  eyes  of  a  fool  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. — Proverbs  xvii.  24. 

The  contrast  of  this  text  is  that  a  wise  man 
considers  duty,  seeks  to  understand  the  real  and 
important  issues  of  life,  tries  to  discover  the  prin- 
ciples and  laws  of  right  conduct;  but  the  man  of 
no  understanding  has  no  insight  into  the  bearing 
of  the  things  he  is  faced  with  every  day.  They 
are  as  if  they  were  not  for  him.  He  has  a  soul 
too  high  to  be  concerned  about  details;  but  it  is 
really  because  he  is  too  unstable  to  be  truly  serious 
abotit  anything.  The  man  of  sense  and  discretion 
has  to  consider  large  things  and  far-off  events,  things 
distant  and  future,  but  he  is  always  anxious  to  relate 
them  to  the  actual  needs  of  life.  He  makes  it  his 
aim  to  translate  principles  into  action.  Above  all, 
present  duty  is  a  master-word  to  him.  The  fool 
does  not  attempt  to  comprehend  anything.  He  is 
afflicted  by  feebleness  of  purpose.     Of  flighty  and 

87 


88    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

confused  mind,  he  moves  rapidly  from  subject  to 
subject,  the  more  unreal  and  impracticable  the 
better,  the  farther  away  from  the  needs  of  actual 
existence  and  the  demand  for  present  decision  the 
better.  He  is  unable  to  attend  to  the  examples 
and  warnings  and  duties  that  are  under  his  very 
nose.  Experience  has  no  lesson  for  him,  and  the 
present  no  claims  on  him.  And  there  is  a  species 
of  fool  who  does  this  on  the  plea  that  he  is  taken 
up  with  larger  things,  matters  of  wider  moment; 
that  he  has  no  time  for  simple  duties,  engrossed 
as  he  is  in  his  large  speculations.  These  duties 
may  obtrude  themselves  before  his  eyes,  but  his 
eyes  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.  It  is  this  special 
kind  of  folly  we  would  consider  now,  which  w^e  must 
remember  is  not  confined  to  the  complete  and 
finished  specimen.  In  the  wisest  men  there  are 
strains  of  folly,  streaks  of  foolishness — at  least, 
moments  of  aberration.  Certainly,  wise  or  not, 
we  all  have  temptations  along  this  line  of  our 
text. 

But  at  the  very  beginning  we  must  discriminate 
if  we  would  judge  clearly  the  real  thought  of  this 
proverb.  It  is  not  folly,  but  wisdom,  for  a  man 
to  have  large  views  and  a  wide  outlook.  The 
worst  fool  in  the  world  is  the  man  who  will  admit 


TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE    89 

nothing  that  he  cannot  see  or  feel  or  taste,  who  has 
no  place  for  imagination  or  vision  or  faith.  He 
may  call  himself  a  severely  practical  man,  or  a 
business  man,  or  a  scientific  man,  or  label  himself 
what  he  likes ;  but  there  is  no  folly  like  that  of 
the  man  who  shuts  himself  out  from  the  great 
universe  of  thought  and  feeling  and  poetry  and 
religion ;  who  never  looks  out  and  away,  and  never 
looks  up  and  beyond;  who  takes  no  wide  sweeps  of 
vision,  and  whose  eyes  are  never  focussed  for  the 
large  distances.  Even  in  business  the  great  business 
man  may  be  said  to  be  the  man  who  has  his  eyes 
on  the  ends  of  the  earth,  who  has  the  courage  to 
make  big  ventures,  who  knows  something  of  how 
economic  laws  work,  and  how  some  scientific  laws 
work,  so  that  he  may  relate  them  intelligently  to 
his  particular  business.  The  truly  practical  man 
is  not  made  the  less  but  the  more  practical  by  know- 
ing theory  as  well  as  practice,  and  by  giving 
scope  to  his  whole  nature  as  well  as  the  special 
functions  he  exercises  in  his  daily  work.  The  great 
scientific  men  have  not  been  merely  observers,  but 
have  had  a  touch  of  poetry  in  them,  have  used  a 
disciplined  imagination,  and  have  searched  for  laws 
and  broad  generalisations  to  group  their  facts  of 
observation.     There  is  a  commonplace  and  prosaic 


90    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

mind  in  all  branches  of  activity  which  would  gladly 
use  this  proverb  to  throw  contempt  on  the  philos- 
opher, the  poet,  the  seer,  the  dreamer,  and  the  man 
generally  who  is  not  content  with  the  narrow  round 
of  the  immediate  and  the  practical.  The  opportunist 
statesman  does  not  love  the  man  who  is  anything 
of  a  doctrinaire,  who  has  principles  of  statesmanship 
and  uncomfortable  theories  of  reform  that  put  the 
Parliamentary  machine  out  of  gear.  The  pillar  of 
law  and  order  in  society, looks  askance  at  the  fervid 
social  reformer,  who  speaks  of  large  reconstruction 
and  has  ideals  of  Utopia  for  the  world.  The 
commonplace  scientist,  who  does  excellent  work — 
it  may  be  in  classifying  and  cataloguing  beetles — 
sneers  at  those  he  calls  visionaries  and  idealists. 
The  practical  materialist  despises  the  man  who  is 
interested  in  spiritual  issues  and  w^ho  asks  for  space 
for  the  human  soul  to  soar. 

That  sort  of  narrowness,  so  common  in  various 
ways,  gets  no  support  from  the  contrast  of  our  text. 
The  Proverb  declares  that  the  man  of  understanding 
has  wisdom  before  his  face,  uses  wisdom  to  deal  with 
the  affairs  that  emerge  before  him,  puts  the  law  of 
life  in  practice  day  by  day;  whereas  the  eyes  of  a 
fool  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  wandering  fitfully 
hither  and  thither,  never  recognising  the  meaning 


TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE    91 

of  events  and  the  lessons  of  experience,  taken  up 
with  anything  except  present  duty.  It  is  the  same 
thought  as  in  the  other  proverb  in  Ecclesiastes, 
"The  wise  man's  eyes  are  in  his  head;  but  the 
fool  walketh  in  darkness."  To  him  it  is  as  if  he 
had  no  eyes,  for  they  ever  roam  in  waywardness  from 
the  plain  duties  that  lie  near. 

There  is  need  to  all  of  us  for  the  warning  against 
this  sort  of  folly.  We  all  know  something  of  the 
attraction  of  distance,  the  romance  of  the  unkno^\'n ; 
and  we  are  inclined  to  minimise  present  oppor- 
tunities by  dreaming  about  some  larger  sphere  where 
we  would  do  great  things.  !N^ot  here,  but  somewhere 
in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  is  the  occasion  we  need  to 
draw  out  our  unsuspected  powers.  The  first  duty 
is  the  duty  near  at  hand ;  but  that  is  too  small  for 
the  fool  whose  eyes  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
The  distant,  the  far-away  affects  imagination  easily ; 
it  can  soar  and  fly  without  breaking  wings  against 
hard  facts.  Some  think  that  it  is  because  they  are  of 
superior  nature,  of  a  finer  texture  of  imagination, 
that  they,  take  no  interest  in  the  life  around  them, 
but  divert  themselves  with  vain  dreams,  building 
castles  in  the  air,  turning  ever  towards  the  ends 
of  the  earth  for  their  high  thoughts  and  noble 
aspirations.     But  really,  such  an   imagination  is  of 


92    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

the  commonest  and  lowest  type.  It  is  lack  of  imagi- 
nation to  be  nnable  to  enter  with  insight  and 
sympathy  into  the  common  life  around,  to  sec  only 
the  commonplace  in  what  is  common,  to  sec  none 
of  the  romance  and  pathos  and  heroism  of  lowly 
life.  Even  from  the  point  of  view  of  art  that 
is  the  triumph  of  imagination,  to  throw  a  glory  round 
the  usual  and  interpret  the  common  in  loving 
sympathy.  Any  one  can  imagine  thrilling  adven- 
tures in  China  or  Peru  or  in  the  islands  of  the 
sea,  but  few  can  show  us  the  treasures  of  heart 
and  soul  in  the  common  life  ungilded  by  the  halo 
of  romance.  Truly  wisdom  is  before  the  face  of 
him  that  hath  understanding,  but  the  eyes  of  a 
fool  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

It  does  seem  a  natural  folly,  for  we  have  such 
varied  illustrations  of  it.  They  are  so  common 
that  I  can  only  mention  some,  and  perhaps  we 
will  make  the  application  to  ourselves  if  any  of 
them  happen  to  fit.  We  find  men  with  a  passion 
for  humanity  at  large,  with  little  consideration 
for  single  men;  full  of  fine  sentiment  about  the 
progress  of  the  race,  but  never  lifting  a  little 
finger  to  help  a  lame  dog  over  a  stile.  They 
have  high  thoughts  about  man,  but  little  thought 
for  men.     It  is  like  having  a  great  love  of  botany 


TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE    93 

without  any  love  for  flowers — and  that,  too,  is 
not  nnkno^vn.  Some,  again,  have  not  such  philo- 
sophical tastes,  and  do  not  pretend  to  worship 
humanity,  but  are  very  cosmopolitan  in  their 
interests,  students  of  cities  and  the  ways  of  men, 
or  with  high  notions  of  duty  as  citizens  of  a 
mighty  Empire,  and  at  the  same  time  with  little 
sense  of  the  duties  of  citizenship  of  their  own 
town  or  village.  Others  whose  circle  takes  a 
still  smaller  sweep  have  great  zeal  for  the  com- 
monwealth, for  the  national  life  or  for  civic  life, 
but  habitually  neglect  home  life.  There  are  men 
of  wide  acquaintanceship,  with  friends  in  every 
quarter,  with  a  perfect  genius  for  fellowship  if 
only  they  be  of  foreign  feathers;  for  if  they  are 
masters  they  never  take  the  trouble  to  know 
their  own  servants.  There  are  those  who  seem 
to  know  a  whole  city-full  who  have  no  knowl- 
edge of  their  own  workmen.  There  are  women 
who  are  in  our  own  homely  proverb  "angels 
abroad  and  devils  at  home,"  courting  popularity 
in  many  a  distant  quarter,  and  leaving  the 
natural  sphere  uncultivated.  There  are  specimens 
of  what  are  universally  known  as  good  comrades 
— hail-fellow-well-met  with  crowds — but  neglectful 
husbands    and  fathers.     A    workinc;   man    told    me 


94    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

of  one  he  knew  in  bis  own  trade  who  was  a 
capable  workman  and  earned  the  best  wages,  who 
bad  troops  of  friends,  was  never  absent  from  a  match 
or  race-meeting,  and  took  a  wide  interest  in  what 
is  called  sport,  but  who  spent  so  much  on  his 
own  pleasures  that  his  wife  had  to  go  our  charring 
to  feed  the  children,  and  he  was  not  ashamed 
among  his  hosts  of  friends.  It  is  not  an  un- 
common type,  though  there  are  few  so  bad  as 
that.  Our  proverb  thus  has  many  applications  in 
life,  and  is  not  merely  a  musty  saying  of  no 
modern  meaning.  Some  will  burn  with  indigna- 
tion over  a  story  of  far-off  crimes,  a  massacre  in 
China  or  Armenia,  who  have  no  flame  to  spare 
for  wrongs  nearer  home.  Their  eyes,  like  the 
fool's,  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.  If  they  saw 
clearly  and  felt  deeply  some  of  the  daily  wrongs 
of  men  and  women  and  little  children  in  our 
cities,  they  would  move  swiftly  to  the  aid  of  all 
who  work  and  pray  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  to 
come  in  our  midst. 

If  a  man  love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
seen,  how  can  he  love  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
not  seen,  to  say  nothing  of  loving  God  ?  The 
first  duty  is  the  duty  near  at  hand.  Wisdom 
can  do  its  work  on  the  thiners  that  are  before  our 


TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE    95 

face.  It  would  be  nothing  to  be  transported  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth;  the  foolish  eyes  would 
still  be  on  the  horizon,  looking  past  and  over  the 
facts  of  the  case  and  the  duties  of  the  situation. 
We  might  be  given  our  vain  dream  of  a  new 
enviromnent  and  a  large  and  distant  sphere,  with- 
out having  a  pennyworth  more  wisdom  to  rec- 
ognise our  opportunities.  Only  by  accepting  duty 
here  and  now,  only  by  taking  advantage  of  the 
day  of  small  things,  will  we  be  made  fit  for 
anything  bigger.  Only  by  humbly  and  simply 
following  the  light  we  possess,  will  we  be  saved 
from  the  remorse  of  lost  opportunities,  "They 
made  me  keeper  of  the  vineyards,  but  mine  own 
vineyard  have  I  not  kept." 

ISTot  only  does  work  and  life  suffer  from  this 
cause  of  failure,  but  we  ourselves  suffer,  and  our 
appreciation  suffers.  It  is  a  foolish  thought  that 
far  birds  must  have  fine  feathers,  but  in  every 
sphere  Ave  are  tempted  to  think  so,  and  thus  to 
lose  true  perspective  of  our  actual  possessions. 
I  once  met  people  from  London  in  Florence, 
assiduously  doing  the  round  of  the  picture  gal- 
leries. Talking  about  certain  old  masters,  I  men- 
tioned that  there  were  some  good  specimens  of 
their    work    in    London.      In    astonishment    they 


96    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

asked  where  in  London,  and  when  I  spoke  of 
the  iN^ational  Gallery,  I  discovered,  this  time  to 
my  astonishment,  that  they  had  never  been  there. 
Consumed  with  a  passionate  love  of  art,  and 
living  all  their  days  within  a  walk  of  one  of 
the  greatest  galleries  in  Europe,  they  had  never 
taken  the  trouble  to  go.  Perhaps  they  were  the 
people  described  by  the  old  Scotsman  in  Kingsley's 
Alton  Locke,  as  "Puir  bodies  who  would  rather 
hear  an  Italian  dog  howl  than  hear  an  English 
nightingale  sing."  The  materials  of  wisdom  are 
often  before  our  face,  while  our  foolish  eyes  look 
away  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  Our  true  oppor- 
tunities are  so  near  that  we  stumble  against  them 
every  day,  while  we  are  mooning  over  some  far-off 
chances  and  distant  prospects.  Our  first  duties 
are  the  duties  to  our  hand,  while  we  wait  for 
some  great  occasion.  All  the  glory  of  life,  all  the 
romance  of  living,  all  the  deep  and  true  joys  of 
the  world,  all  the  splendour  and  the  mystery  are 
within  our  reach  if  we  had  but  eyes  to  see  and 
hearts  to  understand,  while  we  despise  our  possi- 
bilities and  cast  scorn  on  what  we  deem  the  trivial 
round.  We  long  to  be  the  keeper  of  the  vineyards, 
while  our  own  vineyard  we  do  not  keep.  We 
would  play   the   hero   if  we   had   the   fit   occasion; 


TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE    97 

we  have  a  soul  above  our  lot;  we  dream  of  what 
we  might  be  and  do,  and  all  the  time — 

The  primal  duties  shine  aloft  like  stars, 
The  charities  that  soothe  and  heal  and  bless 
Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  man  like  flowers. 

The  Christian  faith  means  the  consecration  of  the 
common  things.  There  is  nothing  common  or  un- 
clean, no  sphere  too  petty  that  it  cannot  become  a 
place  of  service,  no  lot  too  circumscribed  that  it 
cannot  be  illumined  with  the  glory  of  love ;  no  detail 
too  insignificant  that  it  counts  for  nothing.  Let  your 
life  widen  out  in  circles.  Begin  at  the  centre  and 
describe  the  circle  you  can  easily  fill;  then  a  little 
bigger  if  you  become  capable  of  that.  Let  the  occu- 
pation of  the  circle  of  life  be  real  and  effective  before 
you  sigh  for  unconquered  territory.  Accept  the 
opportunities  you  already  possess.  Unfaithfulness 
in  the  small  things  is  like  deserting  your  post.  Curb 
the  foolish  eyes  that  would  look  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth  for  a  sphere  of  action.  The  true  wisdom  of 
life  is  before  your  face  if  you  will  but  open  your 
mind  and  heart  to  it.  Not  lo  here  or  lo  there,  but 
behold  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  you.  God 
is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us,  if  we  will  take  and 
taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good. 


98    TEMPTATION    OF    DISTANCE 

Where  shall  I  serve  God  ?  First  of  all,  where  you 
are.  How  shall  I  serve  God?  In  the  consecration 
of  the  common  affairs,  by  faithfulness  in  the  day  of 
small  things,  by  patience  and  faith  and  hope  and 
love  displayed  in  actual  life.  When  shall  I  serve 
God?  Now!  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time; 
behold,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation. 


IX 

REPENTANCE 

And  they  went  out,  and  preacJied  that  men  should  repent. 
—St.  Mark  vi.  12. 

"In  repentance  too  is  man  purified:  it  is  the  grand 
Christian  act,"  says  Carlyle.  It  may  truly  enough  be 
called  the  grand  Christian  act  in  the  sense  that  every- 
thing depends  on  it,  and  that  religion  begins  its 
perfect  work  there.  There  are  perhaps  grander 
Christian  acts  than  repentance,  but  without  it  none 
of  them  is  possible.  It  is  not  life  itself,  but  it  is  the 
gate  to  life,  the  portal  through  which  the  soul  must 
pass  into  the  Father's  House.  All  spiritual  religion 
must  begin  with  repentance.  All  the  prophets  pref- 
aced their  message  with  a  call  to  repentance.  What- 
ever difference  there  might  be  in  their  respective 
gifts  and  temperament,  or  in  their  times  or  spheres 
of  labour,  their  message  never  varied  in  its  essence. 
Standing  as  they  did  as  witnesses  for  God  and  for 
God's  claims  on  His  people,  the  call  to  repentance  was 
the  logical  beginning  of  their  work.     This  was  their 

99 


100  REPENTANCE 

first  word,  and  if  left  unheeded  it  was  practically 
their  last  word  also.  In  New  Testament  times  when 
John  the  Baptist  came  to  prepare  the  way  of  the 
Lord,  he  preached  saying,  "Repent,  for  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  is  at  hand."  The  first  report  also  of  our 
Lord's  work  is,  "Jesus  preached.  Repent  ye  and  be- 
lieve the  Gospel."  And  when  the  disciples  were  sent 
forth  on  the  first  apostolic  mission,  "they  went  out 
and  preached  that  men  should  repent." 

The  call  to  repentance  has  been,  and  must  be,  the 
method  of  preaching  of  all  ages.  We  all  accept  it 
as  a  doctrine  of  religion,  but  the  word,  like  all  other 
words  to  exj)ress  a  great  spiritual  truth,  is  a  wide 
word,  capable  of  being  very  loosely  used  in  many 
senses  of  varying  degrees  of  meaning.  It  is  some- 
times used  for  regret  or  wishing  that  some  act  had 
been  left  undone,  as  in  the  old  proverb  about  marry- 
ing in  haste  and  repenting  at  leisure.  It  sometimes 
stands  for  remorse,  which  eats  into  the  fibre  of  the 
life,  ending  in  despair.  Or  in  between  these  two 
extremes  it  may  only  mean  a  self-reproach  for  action 
now  recognised  to  be  foolish,  or  an  impotent  self-pity 
which  rather  enjoys  the  distinction  of  grief.  It  is 
not  a  fixed  note  as  in  a  musical  score,  but  runs  up 
through  the  whole  gamut  from  simple  compunction 
up  through  many  notes  to  contrition.     The  word  is 


REPENTANCE  101 

wide,  because  life  is  wide ;  and  the  quality  of  the 
sorrow  depends  on  the  heart  that  sorrows,  as  the 
seed  depends  on  the  depth  and  richness,  or  the  barren- 
ness and  poverty,  of  the  soil  in  which  it  is  cast.  It 
is  perhaps  not  necessary  for  us  to  be  too  precise  in 
our  theological  thinking,  and  to  attempt  to  define 
too  minutely  all  that  is  contained  in  repentance  at 
its  best  as  the  Schoolmen  used  to  do;  but  it  must  be 
all  for  good  to  clarify  our  minds  about  a  subject  of 
such  transcendent  importance  as  repentance,  and  at 
least  to  see  on  what  the  emphasis  ought  to  be  laid. 

The  Schoolmen  used  to  resolve  repentance  into 
three  elements,  all  three  necessary,  the  omission  of 
any  one  of  them  destroying  the  worth  of  penitence — 
contrition,  confession,  satisfaction.  Dante  symbol- 
ises these  three  elements  in  the  three  steps  which  led 
up  to  the  entrance-gate  of  Purgatory,  where  stood  the 
Warder-angel  with  the  drawn  sword.  As  Purgatory 
is  the  place  where  the  soul  is  to  be  shriven  and 
cleansed,  we  see  how  appropriate  it  is  that  the  three 
steps  of  repentance  should  be  planted  at  the  gate. 
When  the  Warder  had  invited  them  to  enter  and  pass 
over  the  steps, 

Thither  did  we  draw  nigh,  and  that  first  stair 
Was  of  white  marble,  polished  so  and  clean, 
It  mirrored  all  my  features  as  they  were. 
The  second  darker  than  dusk  perse  was  seen, 


103  REPENTANCE 

Of  stone  all  rugged,  rough  and  coarse  in  grain, 
With  many  a  crack  its  length  and  breadtli  between. 
The  third,  which  o'er  the  others  towers  amain, 
Appeared  as  if  of  fiery  porphyry, 
Like  blood  that  gushes  crimson  from  the  vein. 

The  triple  stair  stands  for  the  three  steps  of  peni- 
tence— first,  contrition,  when  a  man  sees  himself  as 
he  really  is,  as  Dante  saw  himself  mirrored  in  the 
white  marble.  The  second  step  is  confession,  which 
lays  bare  the  heart  black  as  the  rugged  stone,  cracked 
and  broken  and  coarse.  The  fiery  porphyry  stone 
is  the  third  step,  satisfaction,  the  love  all  afire  to 
offer  itself  up,  to  atone  even  at  the  price  of  blood  for 
the  sake  of  the  ''blood  of  price"  shed  upon  the  cross. 

In  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine  of  penance  errors 
crept  in  at  the  last  two  of  these  steps.  Confession 
was  defined  as  self-accusation  to  a  priest,  who  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  the  keys  and  was  able  to  absolve 
from  the  sin.  And  when  that  was  conceded,  it  was 
natural  that  satisfaction  should  become  the  tasks  or 
penance  imposed  by  the  priest  to  satisfy  justice.  At 
the  same  time  these  three  elements  must  be  found 
in  all  true  repentance.  Each  is  to  be  found  in  the 
true  evangelical  state  of  repentance,  and  yet  by  itself 
each  may  be  only  a  baleful  delusion. 

(1)  Repentance    implies    contrition,    sorrow   and 


REPENTANCE  103 

shame  for  the  past.  When  the  heart  awakes  to  the 
sense  of  sin,  it  is  broken  and  torn  with  remorse  and 
self-loathing.  The  whole  literature  of  religion  is 
full  of  this  sorrow.  We  can  hear  to-day,  after  all  the 
centuries,  the  sob  and  the  wail  in  the  Penitential 
Psalms.  In  all  repentance  there  is  this  self -accusing 
pain,  grief  for  a  misspent  past,  an  anguish  of  regret 
at  the  folly,  something  of  the  sense  of  guilt  and  self- 
loathing  which  made  Job  say,  "I  abhor  myself,  and 
repent  in  dust  and  ashes."  Contrition  is  never  ab- 
sent from  repentance,  sorrow  for  sin ;  and  yet  sorrow 
is  not  repentance.  To  grieve  is  not  necessarily  to 
repent.  There  may  be  even  a  sense  of  guilt  and  a 
self -contempt  without  any  sanctifying  influence.  Re- 
pentance implies  sorrow,  but  sorrow  is  easier  than  re- 
pentance. The  sorrow  may  maunder  on  in  weak  self- 
pity,  a  helpless  regret  that  can  neither  forget  the  past 
nor  redeem  the  future.  The  root  of  it  may  be  only 
a  fear  of  punishment,  or  a  vague  apprehension  of 
danger ;  and  if  that  fear  were  removed  the  life  would 
bound  back  into  the  old  careless  security.  There  is 
no  innate  moral  power  in  the  sorrow.  Repentance 
means  that  the  moral  springs  of  life  and  action  are 
touched,  purifying  the  motives,  and  driving  the  life 
into  a  new  and  higher  sphere.  Apart  also  from  this 
danger  of  falling  into  a  sort  of  luxury  of  self-pity 


104  REPENTANCE 

the  sorrow  may  be  remorse,  a  gnawing  of  despair. 
Remorse  leads  the  life  into  a  cul-de-sac,  from  which 
there  is  no  way  out  either  into  peace  or  into  amend- 
ment of  life.  Hopeless  sorrow  means  moral  paral- 
ysis, preventing  the  soul  from  reaping  the  fruits  of 
true  repentance. 

(2)  Again,  as  repentance  implies  contrition  and 
yet  sorrow  is  not  repentance ;  so  repentance  implies 
confession  and  yet  confession  is  not  repentance. 
Confession  of  sin  is  the  natural  expression  of  the 
sense  of  sin.  The  truly  penitent  heart  will  be  eager 
to  unburden  itself,  to  acknowledge  the  wrongdoing. 
Sorrow  naturally  finds  issue  in  confession  both  to 
God  and  before  men — especially  before  men  who 
may  have  been  wronged.  Confession  is  before  ab- 
solution: it  is  the  way  to  forgiveness.  "I  acknowl- 
edged my  sin  unto  Thee,  and  mine  iniquity  have  I 
not  hid.  I  said  I  will  confess  my  transgressions 
unto  the  Lord:  and  Thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of 
my  sin."  At  the  same  time  confession  is  not  repent- 
ance. Like  contrition,  confession  is  easier  than 
repentance.  We  only  need  to  think  of  the  common 
temptation  to  look  uj^on  a  general  confession  of 
sinfulness  as  if  it  could  take  the  place  of  particular 
and  specific  amendment.  Men  will  confess  to  all 
the  sins,  before  they  will  admit  any  faults,  and  while 


REPENTANCE  105 

they  nod  assent  to  being  called  sinners  in  the  mass, 
they  find  it  easy  to  make  themselves  out  saints  in 
detail.  We  never  have  public  worship  without  con- 
fession of  sin  in  some  form  or  other;  and  yet  we 
know  the  immense  distinction  between  that  and 
evangelical  repentance.  And  we  know  that,  however 
high  we  may  scale  the  heights  of  Christian  truth, 
we  must  ever  and  anon  come  back  to  the  beginning 
as  on  that  first  apostolic  missionary  tour  when  they 
went  out  and  preached  that  men  should  repent. 
The  formal  confession  of  imperfection  and  of  having 
gone  astray  like  lost  sheep  may  never  have  stirred 
in  us  either  the  terror  of  sin  or  the  passion  of  holi- 
ness. Kepentance  is  not  something  to  be  gone 
through  as  a  task  like  the  formal  repetition  of  a 
confession  of  sin.  The  fifty-first  Psalm  is  not  a  cold 
admission  of  having  erred  and  come  short.  It  is 
an  agony,  a  human  soul  at  the  bar  of  self -judgment 
and  at  the  bar  of  God's  judgment,  crushed  in  the 
dust  by  the  appalling  consciousness  of  sin.  Repent- 
ance and  confession  go  together,  but  I  do  not  need 
to  labour  the  point  further  that  they  are  by  no 
means  synonymous. 

(3)  The  third  element,  and  the  third  of  Dante's 
triple  stairs,  is  satisfaction,  or  better  (to  avoid  the 
chance  of  error  from  the  theological  word)  amend- 


106  REPENTANCE 

ment.  This  is  the  proof  and  fruit  of  repentance.  It 
is  the  test  of  the  genuineness  of  the  sorrow  for  sin 
and  of  the  confession.  Repentance  must  work  itself 
but  in  ethical  life,  in  sincere  endeavour  after  new 
obedience,  if  it  is  to  possess  any  spiritual  power — 
otherwise  the  contrition  is  only  an  emotion  and 
the  confession  is  only  a  form.  This  is  the  de- 
mand of  religion.  ''Amend  your  ways  and  your 
doings"  is  Jeremiah's  translation  of  the  call  to  re- 
pentance. The  saving  grace  displays  itself  not  in 
impotent  self-pity,  nor  in  formal  self-accusation,  but 
in  coitiplete  self-surrender  of  life.  St.  Paul  summed 
up  before  Agrippa  the  burden  of  his  message  to  the 
Gentiles,  the  essence  of  his  preaching,  "that  they 
should  repent  and  turn  to  God  and  do  works  meet 
for  repentance."  This  third  step  of  satisfaction  is 
the  crown  and  the  necessary  conclusion  of  the  other 
two.  "True  repentance,"  says  Jeremy  Taylor,  "must 
reduce  to  act  all  its  holy  purposes,  and  enter  itito 
and  run  through  the  state  of  holy  living,  which  is 
contrary  to  that  stat^  of  darkness  in  which  in  times 
past  we  walked."  But  here  again,  though  this  is  true, 
yet  amendment  is  not  repentance.  There  may  be 
outward  reformation  without  any  change  of  affec- 
tions or  will  or  heart.  Repentance  implies  satis- 
faction, but  satisfaction  of  a  kind,  or  amendment, 


REPENTANCE  107 

is  easier  than  repentance.  There  is  an  external 
conformity  which  apes  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  but 
with  no  heart  in  it,  no  love,  no  communion,  no 
prayer,  no  vital  faith,  no  deep  religious  life. 

The  truth  is  that  each  and  all  of  these  steps,  contri- 
tion, confession,  amendment,  may  be  surface  things, 
never  really  turning  the  heart  from  sin  unto  God. 
They  are  all  concomitants  of  repentance,  but  there 
may  be  contrition  even  to  bitter  tears,  confession  of 
the  most  correct  and  exhaustive  sort,  amendment 
complete  enough  to  merit  the  name  of  reformation, 
without  the  saving  grace  of  repentance,  without  the 
true  peace  of  forgiveness,  and  the  sweet  assurance 
of  reconciliation  with  God.  It  is  the  old  distinction 
of  heart-religion  and  formal  religion.  The  heart 
needs  to  be  touched  and  moved  and  melted,  bring- 
ing renewal  of  will  and  submission  of  life  and  new 
obedience,  bringing  every  thought  into  captivity. 
Without  that  subtle  element  of  reality  the  other 
three  unimpeachable  elements  will  not  fuse  and 
combine  to  make  the  perfect  evangelical  repentance. 
It  alooe  can  save  from  waste  the  three  noble  forms 
of  penitence,  and  turn  them  into  repentance  tender 
and  true  and  lasting,  not  to  be  repented  of.  It  alone 
can  transform  these  three  steps,  the  white  marble 
of  self-knowledge   and   contrition,   the   dark   rough 


108  REPENTANCE 

broken  stone  of  confession  for  the  dark  and  broken 
past,  the  fiery  porphyry  of  satisfaction  like  blood 
that  gushes  crimson  from  the  vein,  and  make  them 
not  the  entrance  merely  to  a  Purgatory  the  long 
shriving  of  the  soul,  but  the  entrance  direct  and 
immediate  into  life  eternal,  the  gateway  into  Para- 
dise the  presence  of  the  living  God. 

How  are  we  to  stimulate  conscience?  ISTot  the 
mere  preaching  of  the  necessity  of  repentance  will 
avail  much.  It  is  an  old  story,  an  accepted  common- 
place, that  men  should  repent.  We  must  bring  men 
before  Christ,  before  His  teaching  and  life.  To 
preach  Christ  is  to  convince  men  of  failure  and  con- 
vict them  of  sin.  The  grace  and  truth  of  His  lips, 
the  love  and  holiness  of  His  life,  cannot  be  presented 
to  us  fairly  without  our  feeling  and  saying  with 
Peter,  "I  am  a  sinful  man."  The  appeal  Christ 
makes  to  us  for  God  brings  to  us  conviction  of  sin 
as  no  elaborate  explanation  of  our  participation  in 
the  sin  of  Adam  can  do.  Men  can  put  it  away  from 
them,  but  they  know  as  they  make  the  great  refusal 
that  it  is  sin — and  the  murder  is  out.  It  is  not 
the  mere  preaching  of  need  by  itself,  but  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel  that  produces  repentance.  St. 
Paul's  appeal  to  the  Jews  after  his  terrible  exposure 
of  the  failure  of  the  Gentiles  is,  "Despisest  thou  the 


REPENTANCE  109 

riches  of  His  goodness  and  forbearance  and  long- 
suifering,  not  knowing  that  the  goodness  of  God 
leadeth  thee  to  repentance  ?"  To  show  men  God's 
goodness  ought  to  lead  them  to  repentance  instead 
of  making  them  prond  and  hard  and  self-satisfied. 
That  He  should  act  on  our  hearts  when  He  might 
work  on  our  conscience,  that  He  should  appeal  to  us 
by  love  when  He  might  appeal  to  us  by  fear.  To 
a  right-thinking  man  is  there  anything  which  sends 
him  to  his  knees  like  the  thought  of  God's  goodness 
and  forbearance  and  long-suffering?  There  is  no 
topic  so  rich  for  thoughts  of  humility  and  penitence 
and  tenderness  of  heart  as  the  topic  of  God's  patience 
with  us. 

What  can  plough  the  heart,  so  that  contrition 
becomes  grief  and  hatred  of  sin,  and  vitalise  con- 
fession till  it  becomes  the  uncovering  of  soul  to  God, 
and  inspire  satisfaction  that  moves  with  haste  and 
joy  to  the  will  of  God  ?  Here  we  are  at  the  very 
root  of  evangelic  religion.  It  is  not  the  price  of 
blood  which  we  must  pay,  but  the  blood  of  price 
which  has  been  paid.  There  is  nothing  which  so 
moves  the  conscience  and  leads  to  repentance  like 
the  preaching  of  Christ  crucified.  The  Cross  which 
heals  us  wounds  us.  It  is  the  apprehension  of  the 
mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  as  the  Westfni7ister  Shorter 


110  REPENTANCE 

Catechism  puts  it,  which  induces  true  grief  and 
hatred  of  sin,  and  impels  to  full  purpose  of  and 
endeavour  after  new  obedience.  ]^othing  will  break 
down  the  barriers  of  self-will  and  melt  the  stubborn 
heart  and  leave  the  whole  soul  soft  to  the  touch  of 
the  creative  God  but  the  spectacle  of  His  deathless 
love.  When  we  apprehend  the  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ,  we  are  pierced  to  the  quick,  and  know  full 
well  that  men  should  repent. 


X 

THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

Yet  all  this  availeth  me  nothing,  so  long  as  I  see  Mordecai  the  Jew 
sitting  at  the  king's  gate. — Esther  v.  13. 

Theke  are  spots  in  the  sun;  and  if  you  think  you 
see  the  spots,  you  will  come  to  see  nothing  but  the 
spots  when  you  look.  There  is  some  drawback  in  the 
fairest  prospect,  and  when  the  eye  once  catches  it 
there  is  no  getting  rid  of  it — we  come  back  to  it 
again  and  again  to  be  irritated  afresh.  There  is  some 
discord  in  the  harmony,  and  we  harp  on  it  till  the 
whole  music  is  spoiled  to  us.  A  blot  on  the  page 
expands  till  there  seems  no  inch  that  is  free  of  it. 
There  is  something  to  haggle  about  in  the  best 
bargain,  something  that  would  just  make  it  perfect 
if  only  that  could  have  been  thrown  in.  How  hard 
it  is  to  make  a  man  permanently  happy!  He  can 
often  be  made  happy  easily  enough,  if  only  he  would 
remain  happy.  Can  you  make  a  man  happy  by 
giving  him  things,  the  things  he  wants  and  loves  ?  I 
suppose  you  can,  at  least  up  to  a  point.     The  grati- 

111 


112       THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

fication  of  desire,  of  taste,  of  ambition  would  bring 
sense  of  satisfaction  which  we  would  call  happiness. 
But  so  contrary  is  human  nature,  there  is  always 
something  else  needed  for  the  perfect  state,  some- 
thing that  would  make  the  cup  run  over,  a  further 
step  in  the  ladder  of  promotion,  one  other  dignity,  an 
extra  possession  or  pleasure.  There  is  a  black  spot 
in  the  sunshine. 

The  story  of  Ilaman  was  one  of  immense  and 
rapid  success.  He  had  climbed  high,  till  he  was  the 
greatest  man  in  the  Persian  Empire  next  to  the  king. 
Every  day  brought  him  some  new  token  of  his 
power;  every  day  gave  him  a  new  evidence  of  royal 
favour.  It  was  the  breath  of  his  nostrils.  He  lived 
on  it,  and  he  had  plenty  to  live  on.  He  could  boast 
of  how  he  had  been  advanced  above  all  the  princes 
and  servants  of  the  king.  But  his  pride  had  been 
wounded  by  the  neglect  of  a  certain  Jew  named 
Mordecai  to  bow  before  him  and  do  him  reverence. 
He  could  easily  have  crushed  the  insolent  Jew  with 
one  word,  but  the  insult  had  so  mortified  his  pride 
that  he  could  not  be  content  with  merely  punishing 
the  culprit.  The  royal  favourite  aimed  at  a  royal 
revenge.  He  would  make  the  whole  race,  to  which 
this  impudent  dog  Mordecai  belonged,  suffer  for  it. 
Through  his  court  influence  he  laid  the  train  for  this 


THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE       113 

revenge.  He  had  only  to  wait  a  few  more  days  for 
it,  and  meanwhile  he  was  having  new  favours 
showered  upon  him,  but  everything  was  poisoned  to 
him  by  the  sight  of  Mordecai  unhanged.  He 
could  only  appease  his  fretful  irritation  and  revenge- 
ful pride  by  superintending  the  erection  of  a  high 
gallows.  Mordecai  was  the  black  spot  in  his  sun- 
shine. 

He  had  had  one  other  signal  token  of  his  great- 
ness. He,  and  he  alone  of  all  men,  had  been  in- 
vited with  the  king  to  Queen  Esther's  banquet; 
and  how  his  courtier's  eyes  gleamed.  He  came 
home  with  singing  heart  and  dancing  feet  from 
the  palace  to  tell  the  great  news  to  his  friends ; 
but  there  at  the  gate  of  the  palace  was  Mordecai — 
and  the  black  bile  again  clouded  his  sight.  It  was 
not  only  when  he  came  out  of  the  palace  and  saw  the 
patient  Jew  sitting  at  the  gate  that  Haman  choked 
with  anger  and  bitter  feeling.  It  went  home  with 
him  and  stayed  with  him.  It  was  a  death's  head 
at  the  very  feast  when  pride  was  most  gratified. 
Mordecai  sat  on  him  like  the  old  man  of  the  sea, 
and  wriggle  as  he  might  he  could  not  free  him- 
self. The  vision  of  the  hated  Jew  was  not  only 
at  the  palace  gate,  but  in  his  very  heart.  It  was 
like  a  mote  in  the  eye ;  and  look  where  he  would 


114      THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

the    mote    was    there.      Mordecai    blotted    out    tlie 
sun  from  the  heavens  to  Haman, 

He  gathered  his  wife  and  his  friends  together 
to  rejoice  with  him  in  his  joy,  and  told  them  of 
the  glory  of  his  riches,  of  his  children,  and  all  the 
things  wherein  the  king  had  promoted  him  and 
how  he  had  advanced  him  above  the  princes. 
And  the  best  was  yet  to  come,  "Yea,  Esther  the 
queen  did  let  no  man  come  in  with  the  king  unto 
the  banquet  that  she  had  prepared  but  myself:  and 
to-morrow  am  I  invited  unto  her  also  with  the 
king."  Could  not  such  a  man  be  happy  with  such 
a  fortune  ?  There  is  a  dead  fly  in  the  sweet  oint- 
ment. All  the  splendour  of  court  favour,  the 
sunshine  of  the  king's  smile  which  does  so  much 
for  courtiers,  could  not  take  away  the  sting  of  the 
tacit  insult  that  Mordecai  had  not  bowed  to  the 
great  man  and  done  him  reverence.  It  took  all 
the  sap  out  of  his  pleasure,  a  gnat's  bite  that 
chased  away  all  his  comfort.  He  had  more  than 
enough  to  make  him  happy  according  to  his  own 
scale  of  happiness,  and  he  might  have  waived  this 
little  thing  aside  as  of  no  account  compared  to  his 
genuine  success,  a  mole-hill  set  beside  a  mountain. 
But  the  size  and  importance  of  a  mole-hill  depends 
on  its  situation.     It  was  too  near  him;  he  carried 


THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE       115 

it  about  with  liim  and  could  never  see  past  it.  It 
dwarfed  the  very  mountain.  All  this  availeth  me 
nothing  so  long  as  I  see  this. 

Do  we  know  enough  of  our  own  hearts  to  be 
able  to  make  any  modern  interpretation  and  any 
personal  application  of  the  story?  Is  there  no 
wounded  pride,  which  can  be  as  bitter  as  Haman's 
though  not  on  so  large  a  scale?  Is  there  no 
hatred,  with  or  without  reason,  which  can  make  a 
man  see  red  everywhere,  with  blood  in  the  eyes 
from  the  hot  heart  within  ?  Is  there  no  malice 
that  cannot  rest  even  in  personal  triumphs  and 
successes,  because  there  is  some  Mordecai  sittin'g 
at  the  gate  ?  Is  there  no  envy  that  gives  the 
jaundiced  eye  turning  the  sunshine  into  black 
spots  ?  Is  there  no  jealousy  which  can  make  a 
man  forget  all  his  blessings  and  count  them  as 
nothing  before  the  one  thing  lacking  ?  Is  there 
no  revenge  that  keeps  its  own  wounds  green  by 
harbouring  the  vengeful  thoughts?  There  is  room 
for  many  a  sermon  of  quite  modern  application  from 
Haman's  tragic  confession  that  his  hatred  spoiled 
everything  to  him.  "All  this  availeth  me  nothing  so 
long  as  I  see  Mordecai  the  Jew  sitting  at  the  gate." 

Some  one  offended  us,  wittingly  or  unwittingly. 


116       THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

For  good  cause  or  no  cause,  we  took  a  dislike  to 
some  one.  Some  one  does  not  show  us  suificient 
honour  or  reverence.  We  heard  that  he  said 
something  critical  or  cutting,  and  we  never  took 
into  consideration  that  the  repeated  saying  may- 
have  been  twisted  in  the  carrying,  if  indeed  it  was 
not  a  lie  outright.  Or  we  have  let  envy  of  some 
one  gradually  eat  into  our  mind,  and  we  can 
hardly  keep  him  out  of  our  thoughts  and  out  of 
our  conversation,  like  King  Charles's  head  in  poor 
mad  Dick's  petitions  in  David  C opperfield.  What- 
ever be  the  cause,  right  or  wrong,  that  makes  us 
dislike  or  seek  to  injure  by  act  or  speech,  this  at 
least  is  a  law  that  any  sort  of  hatred  indulged 
edges  its  way  to  a  foremost  place  in  the  mind, 
grows  more  and  more  insistent  till  it  colours  every- 
thing and  spoils  everything,  till  we  know  some- 
thing of  the  feeling  which  prompted  the  words,  "All 
this  availeth  me  nothing  so  long  as  I  see  Mordecai 
the  Jew  there."  It  leaves  its  trail  over  the  whole 
life.  Poor  wretched  Haman  hurt  himself  by  his 
hatred  more  than  he  possibly  could  hurt  Mordecai. 
He  carried  about  with  him  a  serpent  that  gnawed 
at  his  own  vitals. 

(1)   Thus,  notice  for  our  own  learning  that  mal- 
ice  makes   a   man   lose   perspective.      It   magnifies 


THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE       117 

the  one  petty  thing  and  blinds  the  eyes  to  every- 
thing else.  This  little  speck  assumes  gigantic 
dimensions  till  in  imagination  it  overshadows  all 
other  subjects.  It  is  like  the  lust  of  curiosity, 
which  makes  the  whole  wide  world  open  to  in- 
spection as  of  no  account  compared  to  the  one 
hidden  thing,  as  in  the  Bluebeard  type  of  story 
familiar  from  nursery  days,  in  which  every  room 
of  the  spacious  house  is  open,  but  there  is  one 
locked  door  and  nothing  but  that  counts.  It 
poisoned  Paradise  to  Eve  that,  though  of  every 
tree  of  the  Garden  they  could  freely  eat,  there  was 
one  tree  forbidden.  She  disparages  all  the  rest, 
dwells  on  the  single  prohibition,  amplifies  it  in 
imagination,  magnifies  it  till  Eden  itself  seems  to 
consist  of  one  tree  only.  In  the  same  way  this 
other  lust  of  Haman's  destroys  true  perspective. 
Mordecai's  petty  affront  loomed  larger  in  his  mind 
than  all  his  dig-nities  and  successes  and  pleasures. 
He  had  no  comfort  in  his  success,  his  thriving 
family,  his  riches,  his  advancement  at  court,  the 
very  things  he  loved  most.  This  insult  to  his 
pride  was  as  a  speck  of  foreign  matter  in  healthy 
tissue  spreading  irritation  and  inflammation,  till  his 
mind  was  aflame.  Even  when  he  boasts  of  all  his 
greatness  and  plumes  himself  among  his  friends  who 


118      THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

soothe  him  with  the  flattery  he  covets,  he  must  add 
with  a  groan,  *'Yet  all  this  availeth  me  nothing  so 
long  as  I  see  Mordecai  the  Jew  sitting  at  the 
king's  gate."  His  pride  and  malice  and  envy  made 
him  a  self-tormentor,  and  nothing  could  abate  the 
fever.  Hatred  always  makes  a  man  lose  the  per- 
spective of  life,  even  the  right  perspective  of  his 
own  blessings.  It  keeps  the  wounds  green,  so  that 
they  cannot  heal,  and  nothing  really  matters  but 
that  one  spot  of  disease.  Disease  it  is,  want  of 
ease,  a  perturbation  of  the  normal  functions  of 
life.  Hate  infallibly  brings  disease,  discomfort. 
There  is  no  peace,  no  ease,  no  happiness  that 
way. 

(2)  Further,  notice  how  it  leads  to  self-deception 
even  in  the  things  where  a  wily,  worldly  man  like 
Haman  would  be  supposed  to  be  wide-awake.  He 
was  a  master  of  intrigue,  and  knew  the  ropes  of 
the  court,  as  we  say.  Yet  his  vanity  and  malice 
made  him  a  child,  nay  a  fool.  He  thought  he 
was  high  in  the  queen's  graces,  a  prime  favourite, 
because  she  invited  him  to  the  banquet;  and  such 
a  clever  man  would  have  found  out  the  real  reason 
if  his  brain  were  not  clouded  by  vanity.  If  he  had 
not  scorned  and  hated  Mordecai  so  much,  he  would 
have   found  out  something  more   about   him,   and 


THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE       119 

would  have  found  out  that  the  queen's  favour  was 
his  ruin  and  not  his  promotion.  Self-dedeived,  the 
gallows  he  prepared  for  his  enemy  was  destined 
for  his  o^vn  carcass.  He  fell  into  the  pit  he 
digged  for  another,  as  many  a  scheming,  malicious 
man  has  done  before  and  since.  His  hatred  stole 
away  his  brain;  and  truly  did  he  say  that  all  he 
had  availed  him  nothing  so  long  as  he  was  in- 
flamed with  hatred.  Seneca's  word  has  had  many 
an  illustration  in  history  and  experience,  "Anger 
is  like  rain;  it  breaks  itself  on  what  it  falls."  The 
self-deception  leads  to  self-destruction.  From  any 
and  every  point  of  view  this  state  of  mind  in 
which  Haman  was  spells  failure.  It  destroys  all 
peace  and  happiness;  it  changes  the  true  perspec- 
tive of  things;  it  clouds  the  intellect;  and  it  ruins 
the  soul. 

What  can  save  us  from  it,  guard  us  from  giv- 
ing way  to  it,  rescue  us  from  its  deadly  grip  if  it 
already  has  hold  of  us  ?  jSTo  mere  negative  pre- 
caution can  avail  much.  It  would  not  have  been 
enough,  though  it  would  have  been  something,  for 
Haman  to  pretend  that  he  did  not  see  his  enemy 
at  the  gate,  to  pass  him  by  in  contempt  and  try 
to  forget  his  existence.     He  could  not  really  forget 


120       THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

— that  was  his  hell.  He  was  hag-ridden  by  the 
thought  of  him.  It  cannot  be  done  by  the  curb 
merely,  by  keeping  down  the  subject  and  shutting 
out  the  sight.  Envy  and  hate  and  malice  of  all 
sorts  are  not  to  be  disposed  of  by  argument  and 
repression.  They  can  only  be  swept  out  of  the  heart 
by  love. 

Take  a  common  illustration  of  the  human  frailty. 
Some  one  in  your  own  business  or  profession  tempts 
your  spite.  It  may  be  by  his  success,  his  popu- 
larity, his  gifts  that  perhaps  you  think  mere- 
tricious. The  only  possible  way  for  you  to  evict 
your  feeling  is  to  see  the  good  in  him,  and  value 
it  at  its  highest.  All  the  jealousies  in  art  and 
literature,  and  they  are  perhaps  worse  there  than 
in  any  other  lines  of  life,  can  alone  be  disposed  of 
thus.  The  only  way  to  do  with  excellence  of  any 
kind  is  to  love  it,  be  glad  and  proud  of  it,  appro- 
priate it  as  if  it  were  part  of  your  own  possession, 
as  it  is  if  you  do  this.  If  Ilaman  had  seen  the 
patlios  of  Mordecai's  position  and  loved  him, 
Mdiotlicr  the  Jew  responded  or  not,  whether  he 
had  bowed  to  him  and  done  him  reverence  or  not, 
the  mischief  that  spoiled  Ilaman's  peace  and  lost 
him  his  life  would  have  been  averted;  and  the 
chances    are    that    he    would    have    won    over    his 


THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE       121 

enemy  till  he  would  have  been  glad  to  show  him 
honour.  In  any  case  he  would  never  have  had 
to  confess  that  the  black  trail  of  his  hate  was 
over  his  whole  life,  and  that  all  availed  nothing 
so  long  as  this  wretched  Jew  remained  unhanged. 
Hate  makes  a  circle  of  contagion  and  infects  every- 
thing; and  love  too  makes  a  blessed  circle  till  we 
see  nothing  but  love,  think  nothing  but  love,  feel 
nothing  but  love. 

Where  is  the  mystic  centre  of  that  circle  of  light  ? 
At  the  centre  of  that  circle,  whose  circumference 
is  the  whole  universe  of  God,  there  stands  a  Cross. 
It  is  the  place  of  pity,  the  place  of  tears,  the  place 
of  prayer.  Love  there  is  lifted  up  gleaming  with 
divine  radiance,  and  Golgotha  the  place  of  skulls 
is  a  garden  of  souls.  At  the  Cross  we  bow  in 
penitence  of  self  and  pity  of  others.  We  cannot 
keep  our  malice  there.  The  blood  of  the  Cross 
washes  our  hearts  clean  of  every  speck  of  hate. 
The  message  of  the  Cross  for  every  human  life 
is  the  service  of  love.  It  gives  the  querulous 
sentence  a  new  turn,  filling  it  with  another  sort  of 
passion,  the  passion  of  the  Christ  who  came  to 
seek  and  to  save,  so  that  all  we  have  availeth 
nothing    so    long    as    one    lonely    soul    sits    out- 


122       THE    PENALTY    OF    HATE 

side  the  King's  house,  outside  the  Father's  love. 
Hold  Thou  Thy  Cross  before  mine  eyes,  O  Christ, 
that  I  may  see  what  life  is  and  what  death  is, 
what  man  is  and  what  God  is,  because  what 
Love  is. 


XI 
THE  LAW  OF  ENVIRONMENT 

Shun  profane  babblings  :  for  they  will  proceed  further  in  ungodli- 
ness, and  their  word  icill  eat  {or  spread)  as  doth  a  gangrene. — 
2  Timothy  ii.  17  (R.  v.). 

This  Epistle  is  a  personal  one,  full  therefore  of 
personal  references,  and  full  of  loving  exhortation 
and  instruction.  It  is  written  to  a  pastor  placed  in 
a  ditEcult  situation,  with  many  problems  to  solve, 
and  indeed  with  the  whole  faith  of  his  church 
menaced  by  a  great  danger.  The  danger  is  what 
ultimately  grew  into  the  powerful  Gnostic  heresy 
of  the  second  century.  Here,  as  in  all  the  pastoral 
Epistles,  there  are  indications  that  the  Apostle 
appreciated  the  danger.  At  this  stage  there  seem 
to  have  been  only  symptoms  of  the  false  doctrines, 
and  not  a  full-blown  system  such  as  it  afterwards 
became.  So  the  references  are  vague,  and  consist 
mostly  of  warnings  against  the  beginnings  of  the 
spirit  which  would  produce  the  heresy.  It  is  seen 
rather    as    a    tendency    than    as    a    well-formulated 

123 


124    THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT 

system.  The  heresy  is  not  combated  as  a  distinct 
creed  with  clearly-marked  propositions,  though 
references  are  made  to  a  theory  of  religion,  which 
made  faith  consist  of  grandiose  speculations  and 
which  also  made  morality  consist  of  ascetic  life. 

I  do  not  propose  to  show  at  present  the  points 
of  contact  between  the  false  doctrines  referred  to 
in  these  Epistles  and  the  Gnostic  heresy  which 
afterwards  afflicted  the  Church.  Our  subject  sug- 
gested by  the  text  is  the  deep  social  and  religious 
truth  of  the  influence  of  environment.  The  Apostle 
warns  Timothy  that  such  idle  and  unchristian  specu- 
lations are  as  a  disease  that  will  destroy  both  true 
faith  and  true  morality.  Many  of  the  false  opinions 
of  this  heresy  at  first  seem  to  be  at  the  worst  only 
harmless  speculation,  not  really  affecting  life.  It 
appears  as  if  a  man  might  hold  them  and  be  none 
the  worse  for  it.  Eor  example,  a  man  might  believe 
that  the  resurrection  is  past  already,  and  it  might 
be  looked  on  as  an  eccentricity  of  opinion  merely, 
or  he  might  believe  that  matter  is  essentially  evil 
without  his  opinion  on  that  subject  affecting  himself, 
and  so  on  with  the  other  tenets  referred  to  in  these 
Epistles.  It  is  a  common  enough  position  among 
us  that  faith  is  nothing  compared  to  conduct,  and 
*that  the  two  are  not  much  connected.     It  is  con- 


THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT    125 

stantly  said  that  creed  is  only  a  sort  of  pious 
opinion,  and  that  it  is  of  very  little  account  what 
a  man  believes.  This  is  a  very  shallow  statement, 
though  it  is  very  natural  to  say  that  it  does  not 
matter  what  theories  a  man  accepts,  if  only  his 
conduct  is  correct. 

The  Apostle  holds  the  precisely  opposite  view, 
and  asserts  that  the  two  sides  of  life  cannot  be 
divided  up  in  this  way,  as  if  thought  and  action, 
creed  and  life,  could  remain  unrelated.  His  point 
is  that  the  one  inevitably  affects  the  other,  acts  on 
it,  and  is  acted  on  by  it  in  return.  IMen  cannot 
accept  false  theories  without  being  the  worse  for  it 
morally.  These  profane  babblings  and  vain  specu- 
lations, which  we  might  pass  by  as  of  little  moment, 
will,  he  declares,  increase  unto  more  ungodliness, 
and  their  word  will  spread  as  doth  a  gangrene. 
Creed  translates  itself  into  conduct  if  it  be  real  belief. 
Theories  influence  life,  if  they  be  really  accepted. 

St.  Paul  in  the  1st  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians 
combated  this  same  shallow  view.  Some  of  his 
converts  there  seemingly  thought  that  they  might 
hold  some  speculative  opinions  which  were  not  in 
strict  consistence  with  the  Christian  faith,  and  that 
they  would  not  be  any  the  worse  morally  and 
spiritually.      They    might    deny    the    doctrine    of 


186    THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT 

immortality,  for  example,  and  not  do  any  special 
damage  to  the  rest  of  faith  and  life.  St.  Panl 
assnred  them  that  life  was  all  of  a  piece,  and  that 
they  conld  not  keep  their  creed  from  affecting  their 
conduct,  and  showed  them  how  easily  their  denial 
of  immortality  could  slip  into  a  lax  Epicurean  life 
which  took  as  its  motto,  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for 
to-morrow  we  die."  St.  Paul's  judgment  is  truer  to 
history  and  to  human  nature.  Ealse  opinions  can- 
not be  kept  in  an  air-tight  compartment,  so  that 
they  will  not  disturb  the  rest  of  life.  The  whole 
quality  of  the  mind  is  affected.  If  nothing  else, 
they  may  at  any  moment  distort  the  whole  vision. 
Be  not  deceived,  is  his  solemn  warning,  evil  inter- 
course of  any  sort  corrupts  good  morals.  It  is  surely 
the  shallowest  of  all  ideas  that  false  opinions  and 
loose  views  of  life  and  sceptical  theories  do  not 
count  for  much,  and  can  be  conjoined  with  a  high 
moral  tone  and  a  stainless  life.  That  might  be  if 
these  speculations  are  more  or  less  of  an  affectation, 
put  on  on  the  outside  merely,  though  even  then, 
like  all  affectation,  they  would  affect  the  life  with 
a  certain  falseness. 

There  are  of  course  opinions  which  do  not  enter 
into  the  fibre  of  the  mind  and  have  no  hold  on 
the  heart,  which  are  more  a  profession  than  a  creed, 


THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT    127 

and  in  that  case  thej  may  have  little  practical 
effect;  but  that  is  because  they  are  not  the  actual 
opinions  and  real  beliefs.  Instead  of  a  man's  faith 
not  counting  much,  nothing  else  really  counts. 
What  a  man's  faith  is,  he  is.  Conduct  in  the  long 
run  is  just  creed  expressing  itself.  It  is  because 
this  is  so  that  the  principle  is  absolutely  true  that 
by  its  fruits  is  a  tree  to  be  judged.  Alongside  of 
the  shallow  thought  we  have  been  noticing,  the 
Apostle's  warning  is  profoundly  true,  insisting  that 
the  two  sides  of  our  nature  are  inextricably  bound 
together;  "Shun  profane  babblings;  for  they  will 
increase  unto  more  ungodliness,  and  their  word 
will  spread  as  doth  a  gangrene."  It  will  be,  says 
the  Apostle,  like  a  spot  of  death  on  the  living- 
flesh  of  the  Church  that  will  eat  into  the  tissues 
and  spread  till  the  whole  suffers  putrefaction.  The 
evil  creed  with  its  lowering  of  moral  life  will  affect 
the  whole  body  and  scatter  mortification  through 
the  whole  radius  of  the  Church,  The  disease  will 
eat  and  spread  as  doth  a  gangrene, 

I  have  said  that  this  principle  suggested  in  the 
text  is  part  of  the  law  of  environment,  Timothy  is 
asked  to  shun,  and  to  do  what  he  can  to  make 
others  shun,  the  evil  doctrine  and  ungodly  life 
of   their  environment,   which   have   crept   into   the 


128    THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT 

Church  also.  It  is  because  the  Apostle  realises 
the  tremendous  j)ower  of  environment  that  he 
warns  with  such  impressive  solemnity.  He  knew 
that  a  little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump.  We 
usually  take  an  outside  and  surface  view  of  what 
environment  means.  We  think  of  it  as  our  out- 
ward surroundings,  conditions  of  work  and  condi- 
tions of  home  life.  We  think  of  it  largely  as  a 
physical  question,  and  imagine  that  if  we  could 
but  improve  the  material  lot  of  people,  if  we  could 
sweeten  and  improve  the  conditions  of  living,  then 
we  would  avert  all  the  possible  evil  of  the  law  of 
environment.  There  is  very  much  in  this  aspect, 
and  we  should  encourage  every  effort  towards  the 
amelioration  of  the  surroundings  of  life.  But  the 
law  of  environment  is  a  far  subtler  thing  than  all 
that,  and  cuts  much  deeper  into  our  lives.  After 
all  is  said  about  material  conditions,  it  has  to  be 
remembered  that  the  chief  environment  of  a  human 
life  does  not  consist  of  things  but  of  persons. 
There  is  a  moral  and  spiritual  climate  as  well  as 
a  physical.  Why  are  the  conditions  of  work  and 
conditions  of  houses  and  streets  and  civic  arrange- 
ments so  important?  It  is  because  they  represent 
the  subtler  personal  factor.  They  are  powerful 
agents  in  influencing  habits  and  affecting  character, 


THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT    129 

just  because  they  are  impregnated  with  the  lives 
of  others.  The  people  make  the  homes  and  the 
workshops  and  the  towns,  which  have  such  influ- 
ence over  our  lives.  The  beginning  and  the  middle 
and  the  end  of  all  influence  is  really  personal,  if 
we  probe  deep  enough  into  its  seat. 

When  we  think  of  it,  we  see  that  all  the  per- 
manent influences  of  life  come  from  persons.  Home 
is  not  the  walls  where  furniture  is  stored,  but  the 
place  where  others  exercise  their  weird  influence 
over  us.  If  you  analyse  the  conditions  of  your 
work  which  you  feel  to  have  a  great  effect  on  your 
life,  you  will  find  that  the  effect  is  produced  not 
so  much  by  the  mere  work  itself,  as  by  the  rela- 
tions it  brings  you  into  with  other  men,  the  influ- 
ence of  your  fellow-workmen  and  those  with  whom 
you  associate.  And  so  with  every  other  sphere  of 
life.  The  real  environment,  the  mighty  forces  that 
play  upon  life  and  mould  character,  are  thus 
spiritual;  and  this  is  where  we  have  power  over 
our  environment.  We  can  submit  to  what  is  evil 
in  that  environment,  or  we  can  shun  it.  We  can 
open  mind  and  heart  to  it,  or  we  can  shut  the 
door  against  it.  We  can  to  some  extent  select  the 
forces  that  act  upon  us.  If  we  wilfully  submit 
ourselves    to    the    influence    of    the    lower,    if    we 


130    THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT 

choose  to  associate  with  what  impoverishes  true 
life,  if  we  let  evil  intercourse  do  its  corrupting  work 
on  lis,  it  will  pervade  and  pollute  all  life.  This  is 
the  law  of  spiritual  environment  suggested  in  the 
warning  of  our  text,  "Shun  profane  babblings,  for 
they  will  increase  unto  more  ungodliness,  and  their 
word  will  eat  like  a  gangrene." 

We  have  seen  the  truth  of  this  in  the  mental 
sphere :  how  much  more  true  and  powerful  is  it  in 
the  moral  sphere!  If  we  think  we  can  play  with 
evil  influences,  enter  their  company  when  it  suits 
us  and  leave  it  as  we  entered ;  if  we  think  we  can 
read  defiling  literature  and  be  none  the  worse  for 
it,  that  we  can  tamper  with  doubtful  courses  and 
keep  our  real  life  unspotted,  that  we  can  be  one 
of  evil  company  and  yet  not  become  as  it  is,  we 
are  deceiving  ourselves.  The  law  of  spiritual  en- 
vironment acts  unerringly  and  unfailingly.  The 
gangrene  of  evil  eats  into  the  very  tissue  of  the  body 
and  the  fabric  of  the  mind.  It  blunts  the  conscience, 
and  lowers  the  standard  of  the  whole  life. 

When  we  think  of  the  tremendous  force  of  this 
law  of  environment  we  may  well  wonder  that  we 
enter  into  relationships  so  casually  and  so  care- 
lessly. A  young  man  chooses  his  friendships  by 
haphazard.     Indeed,  often  he  does  not  choose  tliem 


THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT    131 

at  all,  but  lets  himself  drift  into  them.  Their 
opinions  and  standards  of  thinking  and  practice 
gradually  become  his;  and  yet  as  a  rule  how  much 
or  how  little  thought  does  he  give  to  this  subject? 
In  all  human  intercourse  influence  permeates  cease- 
lessly the  whole  circle  from  centre  to  circumference 
— your  influence  on  others,  their  influence  on  you. 
It  is  not  a  pica  for  a  hermit  life,  but  a  plea  for  seri- 
ous consideration  of  the  conditions  of  social  life.  The 
consideration  should  be  twofold,  the  sense  of  your 
duty  towards  others,  the  sense  of  a  necessary  duty 
towards  yourself  in  this  matter.  See  to  it  that  your 
influence  in  all  your  companionships  and  in  all  your 
associations  is  for  good :  and  see  to  it  that  you  do 
not  submit  your  life  to  the  degradation  and  contami- 
nation of  evil  relationships.  The  moral  environment 
acts  insistently  and  remorselessly.  The  books  you 
read,  the  friendships  you  form,  the  opinions  you 
hold,  the  faith  you  profess — these  aftect  your  mind 
and  motives  and  ambitions,  and  so  change  your 
conduct,  and  influence  your  life,  and  settle  your 
destiny.  It  has  the  certainty  of  fact ;  for  it  is  the 
statement  of  law.  Shun  the  profane  in  thought  and 
imagination,  in  speech  and  action,  in  all  relations  of 
life;  for  it  will  proceed  further  in  ungodliness,  and 
will  spread  as  doth  a  gangrene. 


132    THE    LAW    OF    ENVIRONMENT 

Thus  in  every  true  life  there  is  need  of  some 
protest.  A  man  is  known  by  what  he  shuns  as 
easily  as  by  what  he  accepts;  he  is  known  by  the 
things  he  will  not  do,  by  the  company  he  will  not 
keep.  There  are  always  things  which  an  enlight- 
ened conscience  will  not  tolerate,  against  which  it 
protests,  and  from  which  it  dissents.  "What  is  it 
in  your  environment  which  represents  your  tempta- 
tion, the  influence  which  finds  the  weak  spot  so 
easily?  Shun  it.  Turn  deaf  ears  to  its  seductions. 
Look  not  on  it.  Touch  it  not.  Shake  yourself  free 
from  it  at  all  costs.  There  is  no  peace  except 
through  the  fight.  There  is  a  kind  of  peace  to  be 
got  through  surrender,  but  the  true  peace  is  the 
peace  of  victory.  Will  you  let  your  life  be  cor- 
rupted by  weak  compliance  with  what  is  evil  and 
profane,  till  it  lays  hold  of  every  sacred  instinct, 
and  degrades  every  high  thought  and  every  noble 
passion?  Here  is  the  principle  of  all  noble  choice: 
whatever  dishonours  Christ,  whatever  hurts  your 
own  spiritual  life  and  keeps  you  from  being  your 
best,  whatever  spoils  your  influence  for  good  over 
others,  that  you  must  renounce  and  resolutely  shun ; 
for  it  will  proceed  further  in  ungodliness  and  eat 
as  doth  a  gangrene. 


XII 

REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

But  many  that  are  first  shall  be  last  ;  and  the  last  shall  be  first. 
—St.  Matthew  xix.  30. 

The  rich  young  ruler  who  had  come  to  Jesus  so 
hopefully  had  gone  away  sorrowfully.  The  terms 
of  discipleship  were  too  high  for  him.  With  his 
blameless  life  behind  him,  and  his  present  noble 
aspirations,  he  had  great  possessions,  and  his  heart 
shrunk  from  the  sacrifice  which  our  Lord  demanded. 
Between  the  horns  of  the  dilemma,  of  giving  up 
power  and  position  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  of  forfeiting  the  new  spiritual  life  which  was 
dawning  for  him,  he  wavered  irresolutely  and  fell 
back  on  the  lower  plane,  making  the  great  refusal. 
I^aturally  the  Master  turned  to  His  disciples,  with 
the  keen  regret  which  such  an  incident  brought,  and 
spoke  of  the  hindrance  to  the  divine  life  which  wealth 
was  to  a  man.  His  speech  took  on  an  earnest,  almost 
severe  tone,  as  He  thought  of  how  souls  were  clogged 
and  imprisoned  by  worldly  things ;  and  the  disciples 
were  awed  by  the  austerity  of  His  words. 

133 


134     REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

But  that  mood  soon  passed  to  self-complacency, 
as  Peter  became  their  spokesman,  and  recalled  how 
they  at  least  had  left  all  and  followed  Him.  They 
had  done  what  the  young  ruler  found  too  hard. 
They  had  not  so  much  to  give  up,  but  it  was  their 
all ;  what  would  be  their  recompense  ?  How  patient 
the  Master  was  with  His  disciples,  with  their  failure 
to  rise  to  His  teaching,  their  lack  of  understanding, 
their  unspiritual  outlook!  How  patient  He  still  is 
with  our  crassness  and  want  of  insight !  He  an- 
swered Peter  with  loving  encouragement,  that  they 
would  indeed  be  rewarded  for  every  sacrifice.  ]S[ot 
for  nothing  did  they  leave  all  and  follow  Him.  Not 
for  nothing  does  a  man  serve  God.  !N^ot  for  nothing 
does  he  turn  his  face  from  earthly  things  to  the 
glorious  vision,  and  choose  the  beauty  of  holiness 
to  any  worldly  good.  But,  knowing  the  self-com- 
placency which  prompted  the  question,  our  Lord 
adds  a  warning  to  His  encouragement.  It  is  true 
that  they  had  responded  at  once  to  the  call;  true 
that  they  are  privileged  as  the  first  disciples  of  the 
Kingdom ;  "but,"  He  adds  with  solemn  warning, 
"many  that  are  first  shall  be  last,  and  the  last  first." 

It  is  a  saying  to  make  us  pause,  full  of  deep  sug- 
gestivenessj  applicable  to  many  spheres  of  life  and 
religion.     It  should  lead  to  self-scrutiny  to  be  thus 


REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT     ISo 

told  authoritatively  that  in  the  spiritual  world  there 
will  be  a  complete  reversal  of  human  judgment,  such 
moral  surprises  as  that  the  first  and  the  last  should 
change  places.  How  true  it  is  we  sometimes  see 
even  here,  true  of  men,  and  nations,  and  Churches. 
Innumerable  are  the  illustrations  of  how  God  hath 
chosen  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the 
things  that  are  mighty.  It  is  a  commonplace  of 
history  and  experience.  The  old  fable  of  the  hare 
and  the  tortoise  is  acknowledged  by  men  to  repre- 
sent a  fact  of  life.  The  clever  boy  at  school  to  whom 
everything  came  easy  is  tempted  to  become  slipshod 
and  casual  in  his  work,  and  to  become  complacent 
in  his  estimates  of  self,  and  sometimes  to  develop 
even  more  serious  moral  faults  which  in  the  long 
run,  in  spite  of  his  brilliant  start,  leave  him  hope- 
lessly behind  in  the  race :  and  the  dull  boy,  slow  in 
understanding,  to  whom  most  things  are  at  first 
difficult,  may  grow  into  a  strong  man,  virile  in  in- 
tellect, with  mastery  over  his  life  because  with 
faculties  made  keen  by  constant  effort.  Great  move- 
ments started  with  the  blare  of  trumpets  have  ended 
in  smoke ;  while  small  beginnings  have  led  to  mighty 
results.  The  fable  of  the  hare  and  the  tortoise  is 
only  a  parable  of  life.  Again  and  again  has  first  in 
time  been  last  in  reaching  the  goal;  first  in  privi- 


13G     REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

lege  been  last  in  achievement ;  first  in  position  been 
last  in  permanent  power.  Instances  lie  sprinkled  on 
every  page  of  history,  and  stare  us  in  the  face  at 
every  step  on  the  road  of  life.  The  stone  rejected 
of  the  builders  has  become  the  chief  corner-stone. 
God  has  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  seat  and 
exalted  them  of  low  degree.  Nations  that  seemed 
to  stand  strong  and  four-square  have  tumbled  like 
a  house  of  cards ;  and  the  obscure  and  feeble  people 
has  grown  into  a  world-empire.  A  little  one  has 
become  a  thousand,  and  a  small  one  a  strong  nation. 

A  falcon,  towering  in  her  pride  of  place, 
Was  by  a  mousing  owl  hawk'd  at  and  killed. 

And  if  this  is  so  even  in  such  palpable  instances, 
how  much  truer  is  it  in  the  things  of  the  spirit,  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  which  cometh  not  with 
observation.  If  the  first  can  be  last,  and  the  last 
first,  in  the  ultimate  judgment  of  man,  what  can  we 
say  about  the  judgment  of  God  which  is  unerring, 
and  which  can  never  be  deceived  by  appearances? 
The  spiritual  world  is  a  secret  world.  There  an  act 
is  judged  not  by  its  size,  not  even  by  its  good  result, 
but  by  its  motive  alone;  and  a  man  is  judged  not 
by  the  place  he  fills  in  men's  mind,  not  by  the  splash 
he  makes  in  the  world,  but  by  his  spirit  alone.    Life 


REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT     137 

may  have  departed,  thongli  the  house  of  life  stand 
fair  and  strong  to  the  eyes  of  men.  In  the  things 
of  the  spirit  who  knows  what  is  going  on  beneath 
the  surface  ?  The  deepest  temptations,  those  which 
test  the  very  foundation  of  life,  are  the  hidden  ones, 
the  secret  ordeal,  the  battlefield  of  which  is  the  heart. 
The  spiritual  result  of  a  trial,  a  grief,  a  temptation, 
who  can  estimate  in  the  case  of  each?  To  one  it 
may  be  a  savour  of  life  unto  life ;  to  another  a  savour 
of  death  unto  death.  Thus  that  which  is  first  to  all 
appearance,  may  be  last  in  reality. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  commanding  character  and 
a  wealth  of  goodness  may  be  in  process  of  being  built 
up  in  unlikely  men,  in  those  who  look  to  be  last,  in 
lives  that  are  unnoticed,  unheralded,  unsung,  with 
no  brilliance  or  show  about  them.  There  is  no 
sphere  like  the  religious  where  the  fallacy  of  results 
is  so  preposterous.  Growth  is  ever  secret,  with  no 
sound  of  mechanism:  it  goes  on  with  noiseless 
changes  in  the  laboratory  of  nature.  And  the  seed 
in  the  heart  of  man  partakes  of  the  same  secrecy. 
Till  one  day  the  harvest !  Of  what  ?  Only  God 
knows.  All  that  we  know  is  that  necessarily  there 
must  be  a  complete  subversion  of  human  standards, 
and  falsifying  of  human  judgments.  There  will  be 
many  surprises,  as  complete  as  the  words  of  our  text 


138     REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

prefigure.  It  is  not  that  hypocrisy  will  be  unmasked. 
We  always  overestimate  the  amount  of  conscious 
hypocrisy  in  the  world.  Rather  it  will  be  found 
that  the  things  we  count  first  are  really  last.  Char- 
acter will  be  stripped  bare,  and  only  moral  worth 
will  remain.  .  The  things  we  thought  goodness,  the 
things  which  deceived  us,  which  we  looked  on  as  of 
first  importance,  will  be  seen  as  they  are.  So  that 
many  that  are  first  are  last,  and  many  that  are  last 
are  first. 

Even  now,  though  often  late,  justice  is  done,  and 
contemporary  judgment  is  reversed,  and  we  can  sec 
the  truth  of  our  text.  Among  the  Apostles  them- 
selves, Peter  and  the  others  were  first  in  time,  and 
Paul  was  indeed  born  out  of  due  time,  but  we  know 
who  was  most  used  for  the  building  up  of  the  Church. 
The  Jews  were  first  in  privilege,  but  the  Gentiles 
laid  hold  of  eternal  life,  and  the  favoured  people  were 
left  a  broken  branch  on  the  tree.  And  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church  again  and  again  it  has  been  not  the 
mighty,  the  noble,  the  wise,  those  patently  first  to 
the  eye,  who  have  been  called  to  high  service,  but 
the  poor  and  the  weak,  and  the  foolish;  and  the 
last  has  been  first.  Tlie  warning  of  the  text  to 
Peter  and  his  fellow-disciples  is  that  they  who  are 
first  in  their  zeal  and  sacrifice,  who  have  forsaken  all 


REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT     139 

to  follow  Him,  may  yet  be  last  in  the  true  quality 
of  their  service.  It  may  be  all  vitiated  by  unworthy 
motive. 

We  can  see  a  little  of  the  moral  reason  for  the 
reversal  of  our  ordinary  judgments.  One  thing  is 
that  men  who  feel  themselves  secure  in  their  fore- 
most place  easily  become  self-complacent,  and  sit  at 
ease  in  Zion.  Sydney  Smith,  I  think  it  was,  who 
speaking  about  Established  Churches  put  one  of  the 
objections  to  them  in  the  witty  saying,  that  endowed 
cats  catch  no  mice.  Whether  true  of  the  particular 
case  or  not,  we  understand  the  temptation  involved 
to  all  who  are  looked  on  as  first  in  the  Church.  They 
are  ever  in  danger  of  settling  down  in  weak  self- 
satisfaction,  and  assuming  that  their  high  place  in 
the  esteem  of  men  corresponds  to  their  true  inward 
merit. 

Then  again,  w^e  find  it  difficult  to  confine  our 
attention  to  actual  goodness,  when  we  call  some 
men  first,  and  put  others  last.  In  the  Church,  as 
in  all  other  institutions,  the  leaders  are  the  men  of 
great  gifts,  of  eloquence,  of  intellectual  grasp,  of 
scholarly  attainments,  of  consuming  zeal  for  religion, 
or  some  other  outstanding  gift.  But  none  of  these, 
nor  all  of  these,  represent  tlie  principle  of  judgment 
which  must  test  religious  men.     ISTone  of  these  is 


140     REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

in  itself  goodness,  though  they  can  direct  and  enforce 
the  qualities  which  are  essential.  Thus  with  the 
great  religious  figures — the  world,  and  the  Church, 
and  they  themselves  may  be  deceived.  There  may 
be  eloquence,  and  mystical  insight,  and  zeal,  and 
masterly  intellect  (any,  or  all  of  these),  when  the 
motives  are  corrupted,  and  the  spirit  is  alien  to  the 
Spirit  of  Christ.  Deep  down,  buried  out  of  sight, 
may  be  the  master-passion  which  sways  the  life,  the 
basal  motive  on  which  the  charactei  is  built.  Men 
may  make  daily  sacrifices  for  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
may  be  lavish  of  their  time  and  their  means,  may 
even  suffer  for  their  faith,  may  stand  first  for  their 
abundant  labours ;  and  yet  before  the  great  Searcher 
of  hearts  may  be  last. 

We  can  see  how  easy  it  is  for  us  to  go  wrong 
in  our  judgments.  Suppose  a  man  such  as  St. 
Paul  pictures,  with  gifts  mental  and  spiritual  so 
exalted  that  he  could  speak  to  the  Church  with  the 
tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  so  deep  of  nature 
that  he  could  understand  all  mysteries  and  knowl- 
edge, so  full  of  faith  that  he  could  remove  mountains, 
so  charitable  that  he  bestowed  all  his  goods  to  feed 
the  poor,  so  zealous  that  he  was  ready  to  give  his  body 
to  be  burned  for  the  Churcli's  sake ;  would  we,  the 
Church,  put  such  a  man  down  as  nothing,  as  sounding 


REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT     141 

brass  and  a  clanging  cymbal  ?  Would  we  not  set  him 
in  front  to  be  admired  and  followed  ?  Would  we  not 
hail  him  as  first  in  our  midst,  and  be  proud  to  have 
him  as  leader?  Yet  St,  Paul  declares  that  if  the 
spirit  of  love  were  wanting,  he  the  first  in  human 
estimation  is  in  God's  standard  last. 

So  the  words  come  to  us,  as  they  came  to  Peter, 
with  solemn  warning,  that  we  may  not  deceive 
ourselves.  We  must  not  judge  either  ourselves  or 
others  according  to  rank,  or  position,  or  ability, 
or  zeal,  or  honour  in  the  Church,  or  any  outward 
quality.  There  is  another  judgment,  according 
to  intrinsic  spiritual  worth,  and  that  will  be  the 
final  judgment  of  all.  Our  present  estimates  of  life 
and  character  are  provisional.  All  earthly  judg- 
ments must  be  ratified  or  reversed  at  the  great 
tribunal.  There  is  therefore  no  room  for  censorious- 
ness  and  harsh  judgment  of  our  fellows,  when  we  may 
be  so  easily  deceived.  It  is  a  call  to  us  for  truer 
self-scrutiny,  to  ask  ourselves  whether  we  have  been 
deceiving  ourselves,  whether  our  place  in  the  estima- 
tion of  men  is  our  place  in  the  esteem  of  God.  It 
is  a  question  which  might  be  put  to  the  national 
conscience,  that  we  may  beware  lest  we  who  have 
been  so  favoured  of  God,  and  set  as  a  city  on  a 
hill,  who  have  been  given  power  and  authority,  are 


142     REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT 

walking  worthy  of  our  great  vocation.  We  may  ask 
it  as  a  Church  prospered  by  the  favour  of  the 
Church's  Head,  blessed  in  countless  ways,  whether 
our  heart  is  still  sound.  It  is  a  lesson  of  humility  in 
every  case. 

Above  all,  let  us  ask  the  question  of  ourselves  as 
individuals.  Our  virtues  and  graces,  the  things  that 
people  admire  in  us,  or  that  we  admire  in  our- 
selves, may  be  only  tending  to  our  deterioration,  if 
we  have  lost  sight  of  the  essential  thing,  if  our 
hearts  are  not  pure  from  the  taint  of  self.  With  all 
our  privilege,  with  all  that  we  call  our  blessings, 
with  all  our  knowledge,  with  all  the  gifts  that  we 
imagine  give  us  a  foremost  place  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God's  grace,  we  may  be  only  slipping  down  in 
the  scale  of  being;  and  if  we  are  to  be  saved  it  can 
only  be  as  by  fire.  The  more  we  are  blessed  by 
God  to  do  anything  for  Him,  the  more  is  there  need 
of  prayer  and  watching,  lest  that  by  any  means, 
when  we  have  preached  to  others,  we  ourselves  should 
be  reprobate. 

But  there  is  more  than  warning  in  these  deep 
words.  There  is  also  a  message  of  hope  to  all  who 
feel  themselves  last,  the  despondent,  all  wlio  think 
themselves  overmatched  in  the  warfare  of  life,  and 
outrun  in  the  race  of  life.     If  part  of  the  Church's 


REVERSAL    OF    JUDGMENT      143 

canonisation  is  imsoiind,  let  us  remember  also  that 
the  Saints  are  not  all  in  the  Canon.  Christ's  little 
ones,  the  nameless,  fameless  Saints,  the  humble  be- 
lievers, who  live  their  sweet,  helpful,  loving  lives, 
may  take  courage  that  however  overlooked  by  the 
world  they  are  regarded  in  Heaven,  however  mis- 
understood by  men  they  are  understood  by  God. 
What  He  asks  from  all,  the  high  and  the  low,  the 
first  and  the  last,  is  a  sincere  heart  in  which  burns 
the  pure  flame  of  love.  Whatever  be  our  scale  of 
earthly  precedence,  though  it  be  reckoned  last  in 
our  purblind  judgment,  that  is  first — so  far  first 
that  it  has  no  second. 


XIII 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CONSECRATION 

And  I  said,  slionld  such  a  man  as  I  flee  ? — Nehemiah  vi.  11. 

The  memoirs  of  Nehemiah  present  to  us  a  record 
of  noble  endeavour,  and  show  us  what  can  be 
achieved  by  one  man  of  courage  and  faith,  whose 
life  is  ruled  by  unswerving  allegiance  to  duty. 
They  reveal  Nehemiah  as  a  man  of  deep  feeling 
and  tireless  energy  and  stern  resolution.  lie  has 
his  place  in  the  history  of  revelation,  not  because  of 
any  profound  thought  on  the  problems  of  life,  nor 
because  of  new  insight  into  truth,  but  because  of 
what  he  was  enabled  to  do  at  a  critical  period  of 
Israel's  history.  He  was  not  a  prophet  who  saw 
visions,  nor  a  poet  who  interpreted  the  heart  of  man. 
He  has  no  place  in  the  long  line  of  thinkers  who 
have  opened  up  new  regions  for  the  human  spirit. 
He  was  rather  a  man  of  affairs,  keen,  practical, 
with  genius  for  organisation,  a  born  leader  of  men, 
a  man  of  iron  nerve  and  passionate  energy.  He 
was  the  typical  statesman  in  a  day  of  small  things, 

144 


COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    145 

rather  than  the  typical  prophet  like  Isaiah,  who 
was  a  statesman  also,  but  with  larger  vision  and 
dealing  with  wider  interests.  He  was  a  practical 
business  man  throwing  his  great  capacities  into  work 
for  the  good  of  his  nation. 

In  a  time  like  ours,  when  such  qualities  stand 
so  high  in  public  estimation,  and  among  a  people 
like  us  more  noted  for  energy  than  for  thought, 
for  business  than  for  vision,  it  is  encouraging  to 
note  how  similar  capacities  were  in  ISTehemiah's 
case  used  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  All  the 
powers  that  dwell  within  a  man  can  find  ample 
scope,  if  they  be  only  set  to  noble  ends.  Nothing 
is  common  and  unclean  among  man's  gifts  if  it 
be  but  consecrated.  The  Church  will  not  take  her 
rightful  place  and  perform  her  perfect  work,  until 
she  can  command  these  qualities  so  common  in  our 
midst,  until  men  realise  that  they  are  called  to 
give  of  all  they  have  to  her  service.  Enthusiasm  for 
social  progress,  business  talent,  power  of  organisa- 
tion, capacity  to  deal  with  practical  affairs,  even 
financial  genius,  all  those  very  attributes  most  highly 
developed  to-day,  should  be  offered  in  greater  degree 
than  they  are.  Men  who  possess  them  are  as  much 
bound  to  devote  them  to  larger  ends  than  merely 
selfish  ones,  as  men  endowed  with  the  rarer  gifts  of 


14G    COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION 

brain  and  heart.  This  is  surely  one  great  lesson  from 
the  life  of  Nehemiah.  But  for  the  consecration  of 
these  very  gifts  he  would  have  been  nothing  but  a 
successful  man  of  affairs,  or  a  high-placed  permanent 
official,  or  a  skilful  counsellor  at  the  Persian  court. 
Because  in  the  power  of  a  simple  faith  he  gave  him- 
self to  a  great  work,  he  stands  in  the  succession  of 
prophets  and  psalmists  and  saints  and  apostles,  hav- 
ing spent  himself  for  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Can  any 
personal  success  compare  with  taking  a  share  in  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom  ?  We  need  a  higher  concep- 
tion of  service,  the  consecration  of  all  gifts  to  the 
service  of  God  and  men.  Without  this  it  will 
be  to  find  at  the  last  that  you  have  spent  your 
strength  for  nought  and  have  given  your  labour  for 
vanity. 

Another  lesson  from  l^ehemiah's  example  is  the 
lesson  of  courage  that  will  not  be  daunted  by  diffi- 
culties, resolution  to  adhere  to  the  path  of  duty,  let 
come  what  may.  The  incident  to  which  our  text 
refers  is  an  illustration  of  this.  The  task  to  which 
l^ehemiah  set  himself  was  one,  he  soon  discovered, 
which  demanded  all  his  energy  and  perseverance. 
Surrounded  by  the  hostility  of  implacable  foes  of 
Jerusalem,  who  would  stick  at  no  treachery  to  pre- 
vent the  fulfilment  of  his  purposes,  he  had  to  fan 


COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    147 

the  flickering  flame  of  patriotism  within  his  own 
countrymen.  The  emnity  outside  was  no  greater 
than  the  feebleness  and  cowardice  within.  A  less 
stout-hearted  man  would  have  given  up  in  despair, 
when  he  learned  to  what  lengths  of  treachery  his 
opponents  were  prepared  to  go.  Cajolements,  threats, 
charges  of  conspiracy  against  the  King  of  Persia, 
open  violence  and  covert  attack,  were  all  hurled  at 
him,  and  all  failed  to  make  him  even  stop  the  work 
for  a  moment.  He  only  said,  "O  God,  strengthen 
my  hands,"  as  he  drove  on  with  his  great  task  of 
building  the  walls  of  the  city  and  securing  it  against 
attack. 

Even  the  word  of  a  prophet  was  perverted  to  force 
him  to  desist.  Shemaiah  pretended  to  reveal  a  plot 
formed  against  him,  and  as  if  in  terror  for  him  and 
for  himself,  besought  him  to  take  refuge  in  the 
Temple.  "Let  us  go  together  to  the  house  of  God 
within  the  Temple ;  for  they  will  come  to  slay  thee ; 
yea,  in  the  night  will  they  come  to  slay  thee."  It 
was  a  mean  plan  to  compass  I^ehemiah's  ruin  in 
another  way — to  make  him  ruin  himself.  It  was  the 
height  of  impiety  for  a  man  who  was  not  a  priest 
to  trespass  in  the  Temple;  and  for  the  governor  to 
do  this  to  save  his  life  would  have  alienated  from 
him  the  sympathy  of  all  the  best  people  in  the  city, 


148    COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION 

all  the  pious  Jews  who  were  his  chief  supporters. 
Shemaiah's  veiled  argument  is  that  the  safety  of  such 
an  important  life  as  that  of  the  governor  was  of 
more  value  than  the  punctilious  keeping  of  a  Temple 
law. 

The  force  of  the  temptation  to  a  religious  man 
like  Nehemiah  was  that  the  advice  came  to  him 
through  the  mouth  of  a  prophet.  It  seemed  as  if 
God  commanded  him  to  follow  it.  But  he  judged 
the  counsel  by  his  own  moral  sense  and  perceived 
that  it  was  false;  for  God  could  not  ask  him  at 
once  to  neglect  his  plain  duty  and  at  the  same 
time  commit  a  sin  against  the  ceremonial  law.  He 
saw  that  the  prophet  was  hired  by  his  enemies  to 
frighten  him  and  compel  him  to  do  what  would  be 
accounted  a  sin,  and  thus  have  matter  for  an  evil 
report  to  undermine  his  influence  and  achieve  their 
own  base  designs.  His  answer  was  in  keeping  with 
his  0"\vn  resolute  life.  "Should  such  a  man  as  I 
flee  ?  Who  is  there  that  being  such  as  I  would  go 
into  the  Temple  to  save  his  life  ?  I  will  not  go  in." 
If  need  be  he  would  die  at  his  post.  Not  even  to 
escape  assassination  could  he,  the  leader  of  the  great 
enterprise,  show  the  white  feather.  The  place  of 
duty  might  be  a  place  of  danger,  but  he  dare  not 
flinch  from  it  on  that  account.     Humanly  speaking, 


COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    149 

everything  depended  on  him ;  and  for  him  to  weaken 
and  desert  even  to  save  his  life  would  be  to  ruin 
the  cause.  Instead  of  the  fact  of  his  being  governor 
being  an  excuse  for  considering  his  own  safety,  it 
was  the  very  opposite.  Just  because  he  was  in  a  posi- 
tion of  responsibility  with  every  eye  on  him,  and 
because  there  lay  on  him  a  heavy  burden  of  duty,  he 
must  be  true  even  though  it  should  mean  death. 
"Should  such  a  man  as  I  flee  ?" 

The  courage  which  l^ehemiah  displayed  was  the 
courage  of  faith.  He  felt  himself  called  to  do  this 
work,  and  he  would  do  it  at  any  cost.  He  believed 
that  God  was  with  him,  and  he  was  not  going  to 
turn  tail  and  flee  at  the  first  sign  of  danger.  There 
is  a  courage  which  is  common  enough,  the  courage 
of  hot  blood,  which  is  a  sort  of  animal  instinct.  It 
seems  even  constitutional  in  some  races.  This  phys- 
ical courage  is  only  what  we  expect  in  men  of  our 
breed,  an  inheritance  from  our  ancestors.  We  so 
seldom  see  past  the  surface  that  we  often  mistake 
the  very  qualities  which  compose  the  highest  kind  of 
courage.  We  praise  a  man  because  we  say  he  does 
not  know  fear;  but  this  may  be  mere  insensibility. 
Some  courage  is  due  to  want  of  thought,  or  want  of 
imagination,  or  want  of  care  for  others.  It  may  be 
only  a   dare-devil   recklessness.      But  true   courage 


150    COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION 

needs  to  have  something  more  in  it  than  this  quality 
of  hot  blood.  Dumas  in  his  great  character  of 
D'Artagnan,  whom  he  meant  to  be  the  typical  brave 
soldier,  gives  a  touch  which  shows  how  real  courage 
implies  sensitive  feeling  mastered  by  a  strong  will. 
"D'Artagnan,  thanks  to  his  ever-active  imagination, 
was  afraid  of  a  shadow ;  and  ashamed  of  being  afraid, 
he  marched  straight  up  to  that  shadow,  and  then 
became  extravagant  in  his  bravery  if  the  danger 
proved  to  be  real."  Even  physical  courage  is  not 
simply  absence  of  fear,  not  simply  thoughtless, 
heedless  daring.  It  needs  to  be  related  to  a  moral 
quality  before  it  can  take  any  high  place  as  a 
virtue. 

This  true  courage  is  rather  steadfastness  of  mind, 
the  calm,  resolute  fixity  of  purpose  which  holds  to 
duty  in  the  scorn  of  consequence.  IsTehemiah  dis- 
played this  kind  of  courage  when,  alive  to  the  pres- 
ence of  danger,  knowing  well  the  risk  and  counting  all 
the  cost,  he  turned  upon  the  tempter  with  the  indig- 
nant question,  "Should  such  a  man  as  I  flee  ?"  He 
stood  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  therefore  in  the  very 
line  of  God's  will,  and  he  would  not  budge  one  inch. 
Luther  showed  the  same  courage  when  the  Elector 
wrote  to  him  before  the  Diet  of  Worms  reminding 
him  that  John  Huss  had  been  burnt  at  the  Council 


COUHAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    151 

of  Constance,  although  he  also  possessed  a  safe- 
conduct.  Luther  replied  that  he  would  go  to  Worms 
if  there  were  as  many  devils  there  as  tiles  on  the 
roofs.  He  knew  well  that  the  chances  were  that  he 
was  going  to  his  death ;  but  he  also  knew  that  he  was 
obeying  conscience  and  obeying  the  truth  by  going. 
To  his  dear  friend  Melanchthon,  who  was  in  distress 
at  their  parting,  he  said,  "My  dear  brother,  if  I  do 
not  come  back,  if  my  enemies  put  me  to  death,  you 
will  go  on  teaching  and  standing  fast  in  the  truth: 
if  you  live,  my  death  will  matter  little."  He  too, 
like  Nehemiah,  was  sustained  by  the  thought  of  duty, 
by  the  sense  of  responsibility  as  the  leader  of  a  great 
movement,  and  by  a  resolute  faith  in  God.  "Should 
such  a  man  as  I  flee  ?" 

There  is  no  quality  more  necessary  for  noble  living 
than  this  moral  courage;  and  there  is  no  quality 
the  lack  of  which  is  responsible  for  more  failures. 
Courage  of  a  sort  is  common  enough,  but  this  courage 
is  rare,  this  steadfastness  of  heart,  this  unmovable 
adherence  to  duty,  which  turns  an  obstinate  face  to 
temptation,  whether  it  come  in  the  form  of  allure- 
ment or  in  the  form  of  threat.  Yet  without  it  a 
strong  character  cannot  possibly  be  formed.  What 
examples  we  are  of  weakness  of  will,  infirmity  of 
purpose,  instability  of  life,  indecision  of  character. 


152    COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION 

We  need  more  iron  in  our  blood.  We  need  to  have 
our  natures  hardened  to  withstand.  Young  men 
and  young  women  need  to  think  a  little  less  of 
pleasure  and  a  little  more  of  duty.  We  give  in  to 
every  dominant  impulse  through  sheer  moral  coward- 
ice and  feebleness  of  mind. 

In  its  essence  great  courage  like  Nehemiah's  is 
great  faith.  It  was  because  he  believed  in  God,  and 
believed  that  he  was  doing  God's  will,  that  he  was 
able  to  rise  above  all  selfish  fears.  This  is  the  secret 
of  strength.  As  the  Psalmist  said,  "I  have  set  the 
Lord  always  before  me;  because  He  is  at  my  right 
hand,  I  shall  not  be  moved."  Well  might  Xehemiah 
be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage  when  he  felt  him- 
self within  the  sw^eep  of  God's  purpose,  when  he  had 
emptied  his  heart  of  all  selfish  desires  and  sought 
only  to  do  God's  will.  Well  might  he  say,  Should 
such  a  man  as  I  flee  ? — a  man  sure  of  himself  because 
sure  of  God,  a  man  privileged  to  undertake  a  great 
w^ork,  a  man  who  feels  himself  a  co-worker  with  God 
for  the  high  ends  of  His  Kingdom.  It  is  only  the 
same  cause  that  can  produce  the  same  effect.  If  we 
had  the  same  simple  confidence  in  God,  the  same 
submission  to  His  will,  the  same  consecration. of  all 
our  powers,  we  would  have  something  of  the  same 
calm  courage.     If  we  made  more  of  duty,  and  took 


COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    153 

the  burden  hiimblj  on  our  shoulders,  we  would  be 
strengthened  by  the  very  bearing  of  the  burden  to 
endure  it.  Faith  is  the  true  method  of  life,  after  all. 
Courage  is  the  true  way  to  high  success.  A  sense 
of  duty  to  God  will  save  a  man  from  weakness,  will 
breed  in  him  the  iron  nerve  and  steadfast  courage 
and  the  endurance  which  is  the  crowning  quality  of 
great  hearts. 

Not  once  or  twice  in  our  rough  island  story 
The  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory. 

And  if  the  path  of  duty  be  not  to  all  the  way  to 
glory  in  the  large  public  sense  in  which  Tennyson 
used  these  words  about  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
it  will  be  at  least  the  way  to  peace  and  true  honour. 
Unless  there  be  in  a  man's  life  a  sense  of  duty  which 
makes  certain  things  necessary,  things  that  he  ought 
to  do  and  must  do,  and  certain  things  that  he  must 
refuse  and  will  refuse  at  all  costs,  how  can  he  escape 
being  weak  and  wavering?  He  is  the  fit  mark  for 
any  sudden  and  swift  temptation.  Unless  a  man 
can  take  his  stand  upon  right  and  stiffen  his  neck 
against  temptation  to  desert  it,  how  can  he  expect 
to  avoid  open  shame  somewhere  ?  Without  it  you 
are  the  victims,  never  the  masters  of  your  fate. 
Till  you  have  some  courage  of  conviction,  refusing  to 


154    COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION 

follow  even  a  multitude  to  do  evil,  till  you  know  the 
bit  and  the  bridle  and  the  spur  of  duty,  going  its 
way  and  not  your  own  way,  you  are  useless  for  the 
world's  best  ends.  Till  you  have  learned  to  say  l^o, 
everlasting  'No,  on  some  subjects;  No,  everlasting 
No,  to  some  enticements,  you  have  not  begun  to  live 
as  a  moral  being.  There  is  nothing  that  our  young 
men  and  women  need  more  to-day  than  this  courage, 
which  adds  a  hard  fibre  to  conscience,  and  gives  sta- 
bility to  character.  We  are  too  pliant  and  flexible 
j  and  flabby,  too  easily  cowed  into  giving  up  prin- 
i  ciples,  too  easily  moved  by  a  sneer,  too  easily 
browbeaten  by  a  majority,  too  timid  in  following 
our  own  best  instincts.  The  sense  of  duty, 
paramount  and  supreme,  seems  weakened  in  our 
midst. 

Duty  cannot  be  maintained  as  an  inviolate  rule 
of  life  without  moral  courage;  and  courage  cannot 
be  maintained  without  consecration.  Thus  it  is 
religion  which  preserves  sacredness  to  human  duty. 
It  is  the  inspiring  fount  of  noble  endeavour.  When 
a  man  is  consumed  with  the  desire  to  please  God,  he 
is  long  past  the  mere  desire  to  please  self.  When 
the  heart  is  fixed,  the  feet  naturally  take  the  path 
of  God's  commandments.  The  new  affection  moves 
the  life  to  new  obedience.     The  love  of  Christ  drives 


COURAGE    OF    CONSECRATION    155 

out  the  lower  loves ;  and  gives  power  in  the  hour  of 
temptation.  Should  such  a  man  as  I,  redeemed, 
sanctified,  with  the  seal  on  my  brow  and  the  cross 
on  my  heart,  flee  from  my  corner  of  the  battlefield  ? 


XIV 

HAUGHTY    EYES 

A  thing  the  Lord  hates,  yea,  is  an  abomination  to  Him,  a  proud 
look  (haughty  eyes,  R.  V.)-— Provebbs  vi.  17. 

The  phrase  which  prefaces  this  list  of  things  hateful 
to  God,  "These  six  things  doth  the  Lord  hate,  yea 
seven  which  are  an  abomination  to  Him,"  does  not 
mean  that  the  writer  had  thought  of  six  things  and. 
then,  as  an  afterthought,  added  still  another.  It  is 
an  idiom  like  our  similar  phrases,  one  or  two,  three 
or  four,  six  or  seven,  suggesting  a  more  or  less 
indefinite  number.  The  writer  does  not  mean  that 
these  exhaust  the  list.  What  he  says  is  that  there 
are  certain  things  utterly  opposed  to  God's  way  and 
will,  and  among  them  certainly  are  these;  and  first 
in  the  list  is  a  "proud  look,"  or,  as  the  actual  Hebrew 
words  have  it,  "haughty  eyes." 

We  are  not  surprised  that  this  should  come  first, 
in  a  passage  which  deals  with  the  relations  of  men 
to  their  fellows.  The  word  implies  here  not  only 
pride  and  conceit  and  selfish   regard,   but  also  its 

156 


HAUGHTY    EYES  157 

inevitable  result  of  disregard  for  others'  feelings  and 
rights;  for  it  is  here  put  along  with  other  anti- 
social sins,  falsehood  and  cruelty  and  murder.  The 
haughty  eyes  mean  that  feeling  of  the  heart  which 
expresses  itself  in  the  selfish  life  and  the  scornful 
attitude,  and  which  finds  its  first  expression  in  the 
eyes.  The  high  look  is  the  fruit  of  the  proud  heart. 
Further,  we  are  not  surprised  that  haughtiness 
should  be  put  first  in  the  list  of  hateful  things, 
since  this  is  the  consistent  teaching  of  the  Bible, 
which  makes  pride  the  great  separator  between  man 
and  man  typified  by  the  early  story  of  the  pride 
and  fall  of  Babel,  and  which  makes  pride  the  great 
separator  between  man  and  God  since  God  can  only 
dwell  with  the  humble  soul.  Thus  the  Church  has 
ever  put  pride  as  the  first  of  the  seven  deadly  sins. 
This  Book  of  Proverbs,  with  its  wise  outlook  on 
life,  constantly  refers  to  pride  as  an  offence  to  men 
and  as  hateful  to  God. 

The  haughty  eyes  are  the  symbol  of  the  pride  of 
life,  the  boastful  consciousness  of  power,  the  arrogant 
self-complacency  of  success.  This  is  the  besetting 
temptation  of  strength,  to  trust  to  the  arm  of  flesh, 
and  in  a  swollen  self-importance  to  display  an  inso- 
lent, overbearing  temper  towards  all  lowly  people. 
In  the  sunshine  of  prosperity  it  is  so  easy  to  imagine 


158  HAUGHTY    EYES 

ourselves  people  of  surpassing  merit,  and  to  develop 
a  fine  overweening  sense  of  personal  dignity  which 
blossoms  into  either  scornful  indifference  or  super- 
cilious disdain.  It  is  not  an  out-of-date  subject  to 
take  the  haughty  eyes  for  a  text.  We  can  see  them 
every  day  in  Sir  Scornful  or  my  Lady  Arrogant ; 
and  they  look  at  us  or  overlook  us  every  day.  "There 
is  a  generation,"  says  another  proverb,  "oh,  how 
lofty  are  their  eyes !  And  their  eyelids  are  lifted 
up."  It  is  not  all  a  past  generation,  is  it  ?  The 
same  temptations  reach  home  in  the  poor  heart  of 
man  in  almost  the  same  way  through  the  ages.  The 
dress  and  fashion  of  life  changes,  but  life  itself  is 
menaced  ever  in  the  same  place:  the  same  pitfalls 
gape  for  the  unwary  feet. 

We  know  that  generation  with  the  lofty  eyes  and 
the  eyelids  lifted  up ;  we  have  seen  the  strut  and  the 
stare,  the  arrogance  of  manner,  the  proud  disdain, 
noted  by  the  observant  proverb-maker  in  the  streets 
of  Jerusalem.  Have  we  had  no  secret  admiration  for 
what  we  call  the  grand  manner  and  the  superior  air  ? 
Have  we  never  ourselves  practised  the  haughty  eyes, 
.'never  looked  down  on  humble  dependants,  never 
shown  contempt  for  those  we  thought  beneath  us, 
never  made  inferiors  feel  what  a  great  gulf  yawned 
between  them  and  us?     Is  it  only  the  cynic  who 


HAUGHTY    EYES  159 

can  describe  the  progress  of  a  man  who  gets  on  in 
the  world  by  what  he  sheds  as  he  rises,  by  those  he 
can  afford  to  overlook  at  the  different  stages  of  the 
rise?  He  learns  to  despise  his  home  and  early 
friends,  to  desert  the  church  of  his  fathers  which  has 
helped  to  make  him  prosperous.  He  learns  to  assume 
more  and  more  of  the  lofty  eyes  and  the  eyelids 
lifted  up.  It  is  part  of  his  social  triumph,  according 
to  our  accepted  notions,  that  he  should  look  his  posi- 
tion, as  we  say.  The  way  to  be  superior  is  to  show 
your  superiority — that  is  the  rule  of  worldly  wisdom, 
and  the  rule  seems  to  be  proved  by  its  success. 

Indeed,  it  is  no  wonder  that  there  should  ever  be 
in  the  world  a  generation  of  the  haughty  eyes  5  for 
we  cherish  a  keen  admiration  for  them,  and  secretly 
acknowledge  the  lofty  claims  the  eyes  challenge. 
The  pride  of  life — why,  we  pay  daily  homage  to  the 
pomp  and  the  state  and  the  trappings.  We  think 
the  haughty  eyes  quite  in  keeping,  even  though  they 
are  cold  with  insolence  and  affected  indifference. 
How  we  poor  fools  admire  the  proud  look,  taking  a 
man  mostly  at  his  own  valuation !  We  will  even 
imitate  it  in  our  own  way.  We  overlook  and  despise 
humble  worth  at  our  door,  and  en\'y  the  high  ways 
of  pride.  We  admire  the  calm  sense  of  superiority 
and  the  dignity.    There  is  a  dignity,  a  grand  manner^ 


160  HAUGHTY    EYES 

a  real  lofty  grace,  worthy  of  all  admiration  and  all 
emulation,  but  it  is  usually  the  spurious  sort  that 
glitters  so  gaudily  and  attracts  us.  It  is  hardly  to 
be  wondered  at  that  we  should  breed  in  our  midst 
many  various  specimens  of  the  egoist,  with  a  superb 
self-complacency,  who  walks  the  earth  calm  in  the 
assurance  that  his  merits  are  written  large  over  his 
whole  body  as  the  proof  of  his  excellence  is  seen  in 
his  broad  acres  or  in  his  lordly  abode.  Read  George 
Meredith's  Egoist  for  the  finished  and  unapproach- 
able article.  Men  bow  before  the  haughty  eyes,  and 
flatter  the  arrogance  and  call  it  natural  and  proper 
pride.  But  there  is  a  thing  which  the  Lord  hateth, 
yea  is  an  abomination  to  Him — haughty  eyes. 

If  it  were  only  in  the  eyes  it  would  not  matter 
much,  but  it  is  in  the  eyes  because  it  is  in  the  heart, 
because  it  is  part  of  the  very  tissue  of  life.  The 
pitiful  thing  is  that  what  we  take  as  an  assvired  sign 
of  complete  success  is  the  evidence  of  absolute  failure, 
failure  to  learn  the  lesson  of  life,  failure  to  master 
the  real  conditions  of  true  living.  If  we  have  not 
learned  to  look  upon  life  with  gentle  eyes  and  touch  it 
with  tender  hand,  what  have  w^e  learned?  If  we 
have  not  learned  the  meaning  of  love,  we  know  noth- 
ing of  the  secret  of  life.  There  is  nothing  but  bitter- 
ness in  pride.     There  is  no  chance  of  true  happiness 


HAUGHTY    EYES  161 

and  peace  there.  It  means  division  and  strife  and 
hatred.  The  haughty  eyes  are  a  sign  of  isolation 
and  separation.  There  is  no  real  satisfaction  or 
happiness  in  the  pride  that  cuts  a  man  off  from  the 
sympathy  and  fellowship  of  his  brethren.  The  high 
place  apart  from  the  mass  of  men,  the  high  place 
that  we  covet  and  scramble  to  reach,  is  a  hard  and 
cold  seat  where  the  best  qualities  of  heart  and  soul 
wither  in  the  chilly  air.  That  can  be  no  success 
which  has  for  its  goal  disdainful  pride. 

The  haughty  eyes  that  reveal  the  poor  vain  heart 
are  a  pitiful  end  for  life,  that  might  have  been  so 
rich  in  love  and  service,  in  sweet  sympathy  and 
generous  help,  finding  its  return  and  reward  in  grate- 
ful smiles  and  moist  eyes.  Was  there  ever  such 
folly,  none  the  less  foolish  because  so  common,  that 
men  should  be  seen  refusing  the  treasure  and  grasp- 
ing at  the  bauble,  trampling  on  the  substance  and 
pursuing  the  shadow?  We  make  pride  the  token 
of  success,  when  it  is  the  patent  sign-manual  of 
absolute  failure.  The  haughty  eyes,  what  do  they 
know  of  the  secret  and  the  joy,  what  can  they  even 
know  of  happiness  and  peace  ?  Even  judged  from 
its  own  low  standard,  by  its  own  chosen  scale  of 
material  good,  its  end  is  failure.  This  Book  of 
Proverbs  rubs  in  this  lesson  by  many  a  saying,  from 


162  HAUGHTY    EYES 

the  point  of  view  of  worldly  wisdom  even.  "Pride 
goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before 
a  fall."  It  is  true,  and  the  proofs  of  it  can  be  seen 
on  all  hands.  Pride  opens  man  or  nation  to  calamity. 
The  haughty  eyes  cannot  see  the  facts  of  the  case. 
Pride  makes  a  man  think  he  is  in  need  of  nothing 
when  his  real  poverty  is  abject.  It  makes  him  imag- 
ine he  is  safely  standing  just  when  he  is  tottering 
to  a  fall. 

It  is  not  hard  to  explain  why  failure  should  be 
the  fate  of  pride.  For  one  thing,  it  keeps  a  man 
from  learning,  from  benefiting  by  either  advice  or 
rebuke.  Arrogant  self-complacency  seals  the  mind 
and  cuts  a  man  off  from  any  chance  of  learning  the 
lessons  of  life.  "With  the  lowly  is  wisdom,"  says 
another  proverb.  Tor  them  there  is  at  least  an  open 
door  where  wisdom  can  creep  in.  They  are  willing 
to  admit  ignorance,  willing  to  own  their  need  of 
light  and  leading,  ready  to  take  guidance  and  to 
learn  the  reproof  of  life.  But  conceit  can  never 
learn.  That  is  one  reason  for  its  inevitable  failure. 
Openness  of  mind,  simplicity  of  heart,  willingness 
to  be  taught,  are  first  requisites  for  success. 

A  second  reason  for  the  failure  is  that  pride  pro- 
vokes opposition  and  hatred.  We  can  see  this  by 
the  unfeigned  and  universal  delight  shown  when  its 


HAUGHTY    EYES  163 

teeth  are  at  last  drawn.  The  bitter  contempt  of 
others  and  the  insolent  despising  get  paid  back  in 
hatred.  There  is  an  innate  desire  for  justice  which 
makes  men  everywhere  delight  when  the  biter  is 
bit,  when  the  haughty  spirit  rides  for  a  fall.  It  is 
not  in  human  nature  that  men  should  love  the 
supercilious  self-esteem.  Men  in  their  heart  of 
hearts  hate  the  haughty  eyes,  even  when  they  fawn 
the  most.     Pride  always  means  strife ;  it  excites  the       ^ 

J. ,  -„ , ^ j,_;, 

heartburnings,  and  all  the  poor  ambitions  to  go  one 
better  than  their  neighbours,  all  the  petty  social 
struggles  that  give  such  material  for  the  satirist. 
With  all  the  sincere  flattery  of  imitation  and  our 
stupid  admiration  of  proud  disdain,  men  hate  the 
haughty  eyes. 

More,  God  hates  it.  It  is  foredoomed  to  failure. 
"A  thing  the  Lord  hates,  yea  is  an  abomination  to 
Him — haughty  eyes."  It  is  not  only  an  offence  to 
men;  it  is  a  sin  to  God.  "God  resisteth  the  proud 
and  giveth  grace  to  the  humble."  It  is  not  on  any 
principle  of  tit-for-tat,  retaliation.  It  is  not  a 
penalty  appended  to  pride,  but  a  condition  inherent 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  case.  Only  to  the  humble 
can  God  give  Himself:  only  the  child  heart  can  see 
the  Kingdom.     The  beatitude  is  not  a  reward  added 


164  HAUGHTY    EYES 

to  meekness  in  payment  for  having  overcome  pride. 
It  belongs  to  meekness  as  part  of  itself — '^Blessed  arc 
the  poor  in  spirit,"  "Blessed  are  the  meek."  "The 
Lord  dwelleth  with  him  that  is  of  a  humble  spirit." 
There  is  no  other  human  habitation  He  can  enter. 
God  can  only  dwell  in  the  heart  that  is  purged  of 
pride  and  self-complacency.  What  have  the  haughty 
eyes  to  do  there  in  the  apocalypse  of  soul  ?  They 
must  be  washed  with  penitential  tears  till  the  self- 
esteem  and  steely  pride  and  hard  disdain  fade  and 
a  new,  soft,  tender  light  touches  them,  before  they 
can  be  eyes  that  the  Lord  can  love.  He  bends  down 
and  whispers  His  secrets  into  the  ear  of  the  lowly. 

"A  thing  the  Lord  hates."  How  can  it  be  other- 
wise ?  It  is  so  unlike  Himself,  and  this  is  the 
greatest  condemnation  of  human  pride.  If  He 
treated  the  best  of  us  in  this  fashion,  how  should  any 
stand?  But  we  cannot  have  so  missed  the  lesson  of 
His  revelation  as  not  to  have  at  least  glimmerings 
of  the  wondrous  truth  that  the  very  essence  of 
divinity  is  seen  in  the  self-emptying  of  Jesus.  His 
glory  is  seen  in  His  grace.  His  majesty  in  His 
humility.  His  unending  power  is  the  power  of  His 
unending  love.  If  we  would  find  rest  for  our  souls, 
we  must  give  up  the  hopeless  search  for  happiness 
in  pride  and  pre-eminence  and  selfish  ambition  and 


HAUGHTY    EYES  165 

personal  vanities.  If  we  would  find  rest,  we  must 
learn  of  Him  who  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart. 
The  fruit  of  the  chastened,  humble,  pious  soul, 
weaned  from  the  pride  of  life,  is  the  Psalmist's  sweet 
song,  "Lord,  my  heart  is  not  haughty,  nor  mine  eyes 
lofty.  Surely  I  have  behaved  and  quieted  myself,  as 
a  child  that  is  weaned  of  his  mother :  my  soul  is  even 
as  a  weaned  child."  The  feet  are  near  the  goal  and 
the  heart  near  the  secret,  when  a  man  can  say  that 
with  any  sincerity.  The  whole  life  has  absorbed 
some  of  the  sweetness  that  faith  breeds.  Ordinary 
experience  can  teach  how  poor  are  the  common 
ambitions  and  how  empty  is  the  house  of  pride,  but 
only  faith  can  lead  out  of  the  prison-house  into  the 
way  of  love  and  service.  Only  faith  can  give  that 
detachment  from  the  world  which  lets  a  man  be 
in  it  though  not  of  it,  serving  it,  loving  it,  because 
serving  and  loving  a  higher.  The  love  of  God 
changes  the  world,  puts  a  new  light  on  life,  till  we 
see  what  are  the  things  that  alone  count,  the  things 
that  belong  to  our  peace.  The  love  of  God  will 
sweep  the  mind  of  its  pitiful  pride  and  its  false  con- 
tempt for  others.  The  love  of  God  will  melt  the 
proud  heart,  and  subdue  the  stubborn  will,  and 
school  the  haughty  eyes,  and  make  them  eyes  that 
"are  homes  of  silent  prayer." 


XV 

THE  GLORY  OF  LOVING-KINDNESS:    A 
MEDITATION  AT  COMMUNION 

And  he  said,  I  beseech  Thee,  skew  me  Thy  glory.  And  He  said,  I 
tpill  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee,  and  I  will  proclaim  the 
Lord  before  thee. — Exodus  xxxiii.  18. 

Moses'  request  is  a  human  and  even  a  natural  one, 
though  it  may  sound  like  presumption.  To  enter 
into  the  mysterious  Presence,  to  know  what  is  at 
the  heart  of  the  universe,  to  pierce  through  the 
material  veil  that  cloaks  our  sight,  to  be  sure  of 
the  reality  of  the  unseen  world,  must  always  be  the 
supreme  aspiration  of  the  high  heart  of  man.  In 
some  form  or  other  it  has  been  the  great  desire  of 
man  to  see  God's  glory.  In  our  day  this  desire  may 
be  stated  in  scientific  terms  as  the  search  for  trutli, 
but  it  is  only  in  line  with  the  old  high  curiosity  of 
the  religious  soul.  Indeed  it  is  not  curiosity  in  the 
ordinary  sense,  but  far  more  akin  to  adoration,  the 
desire  to  prostrate  the  whole  being  before  the  Most 
High.  In  adoring  wonder  and  nwo  men  have 
dreamed  of  God's  glory,   the  Kingly  grace  of  the 

166 


GLORY    OF    LOVING-KINDNESS    167 

Heavenly  Court.  Amid  the  mists  and  flickering 
twilights  of  earth  we  would  stand  in  the  full  blaze  of 
the  perfect  light.  There  are  moments  when  men 
must  long  for  an  Apocalypse,  a  complete  revealing 
of  the  mystery  hid  from  all  ages.  Even  if  we  know 
little  of  such  moods,  we  yet  can  have  some  sympathy 
with  the  desire,  when  a  human  soul  longs  for  the 
divine  effulgence  though  the  glory  blind  him,  when 
he  would  be  broken  of  pride  and  emptied  of  self  and 
lie  prostrate  before  the  Great  White  Throne. 

The  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  Bible  is  the 
spiritual  insight  which  interpreted  God's  glory,  the 
revelation  of  what  constituted  the  supreme  grandeur 
and  majesty  of  God,  the  lustre  of  His  glory.  Glory 
to  us  is  associated  with  magnificence  and  dazzling 
splendour,  the  pomp  of  power  and  the  pride  of  place. 
Our  vain  earthly  minds  think  of  brilliant  pageantry 
and  imposing  state,  the  scarlet  and  the  gold,  sceptre 
and  throne,  and  all  the  insignia  of  majesty ;  and  men 
have  often  spoken  of  the  divine  glory  by  words  that 
express  lavish  grandeur,  wealth  of  colour  and  radiant 
light  and  the  music  of  the  spheres.  Put  alongside 
of  all  such  word-painting,  to  express  the  ineffable 
glory  of  God,  this  answer,  and  you  will  understand 
Revelation  in  its  most  awe-inspiring  aspect.  "I  be- 
seech Thee,  shew  me  Thy  glory.     And  He  said,  I 


168    GLORY    OF    LO  V  I  N  G -KI  N  DN  E  SS 

will  make  all  My  goodness  pass  before  thee  and  will 
proclaim  the  name  of  the  Lord  before  thee.  .  .  . 
And  the  Lord  passed  and  proclaimed,  The  Lord,  the 
Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracions,  longsuffering,  and 
abundant  in  goodness  and  truth."  Can  anything 
match  that  for  real  majesty?  Could  anything  be 
further  away  from  our  common  vulgar  conceptions 
of  what  true  glory  is  ?  From  that  follows  in  spiritual 
necessity  all  the  long  story  of  grace,  the  Incarnation, 
and  the  Cross — God's  sublime  answer  to  man's 
prayer,  "Shew  me  Thy  glory."  Have  we  yet  under- 
stood what  the  answer  is,  and  what  it  should  mean 
to  us?  This  revelation  of  God's  essential  nature 
puts  the  emphasis  not  on  power  but  on  goodness, 
not  on  splendour  but  on  kindness,  not  on  the  blazing 
halo  but  on  the  soft  light  of  love.  "Shew  me  Thy 
glorij,  I  beseech  Thee.  I  will  make  My  goodness  pass 
before  thee." 

Goodness  means  kindness,  loving-kindness,  as  it 
is  so  often  expressed  in  the  Psalms,  "the  loving- 
kindness  of  the  Lord."  What  material  splendour 
could  compare  with  this  wondrous  moral  glory  here 
revealed  as  God's  nature  and  attributes?  What 
compare  with  the  spiritual  beauty  of  the  thought? 
And  it  is  no  isolated  answer,  a  flash  struck  once  and 
lost  again.     It  is  the  one  consistent  thought  of  the 


GLORY    OF    LOVING-KINDNESS    169 

Bible,  growing  in  distinctness,  gathering  fresli  tokens 
of  grace,  making  new  evidences  of  goodness  pass 
before  men's  eyes,  spelling  out  the  sublime  ISTame 
more  and  more  simply  and  more  and  more  visibly,  till 
the  Word  became  flesh  and  men  beheld  His  glory. 

Men  conld  not  easily  recognise  it  in  such  lowly 
guise,  as  even  now  we  still  revert  to  our  vulgar  stand- 
ard of  glory  and  are  blind  to  the  beauty  and  shining 
grace  of  love.  "Behold  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee, 
meek" — and  they  did  not  recognise  their  King 
because  He  was  meek.  What  an  exposure  of  man, 
and  what  a  revelation  of  God ! 

The  Lord  of  Glory  came  unto  His  own,  in  all 
the  true  imperial  majesty  of  love ;  and  His  own 
received  Him  not,  because  they  were  not  able  to 
recognise  glory  when  they  saw  it.  Yet  are  we  farther 
advanced  in  our  standards  and  tests  ?  The  world 
has  learned  slowly  the  meaning  of  greatness  as  Jesus 
revealed  it.  We  surely  know  our  hearts  well  enough 
to  admit  that  only  men  of  spiritual  mind  could  have 
recognised  the  supremacy  of  Christ  amid  all  the  signs 
of  weakness  and  poverty  and  failure  with  which  He 
came.  Would  we  have  looked  for  glory  in  the  tender 
grace  of  gentleness,  and  in  the  power  of  pity,  and 
in  the  sweet  dignity  of  love  ?  Would  we  have  rec- 
ognised the  divine  glory  as  all  that  goodness  passed 


170   GLORY    OF    LOVING -KIN  DN  E  S  S 

before  us,  the  goodness  of  the  Son  of  Man  ?  It  was 
not  as  the  ordinary  lordships,  which  find  instant 
and  easy  response  among  men.  Have  we  no  sym- 
pathy with  those  who  found  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
Cross  ? 

In  moments  of  spiritual  intuition  we  see  that  the 
true  majesty  of  God  must  be  found  in  just  this 
passion  and  sacrifice  and  love^  because  in  these 
moments  of  intuition  we  see  that  therein  lies  the 
real  greatness  of  life;  but  this  is  not  our  normal 
mood,  even  after  the  great  object-lesson  of  Christ 
and  Him  crucified.  Yet  here,  detached  from  the 
world  of  sense,  which  so  clogs  our  soul,  we  see  from 
the  standpoint  of  our  Holy  Communion  how  con- 
sistent all  revelation  has  been  in  this  respect.  Right 
back  from  the  cross  of  Calvary  to  the  cradle  of  Beth- 
lehem ;  back  from  the  mystery  of  our  Lord's  death 
through  His  whole  life  and  teaching  and  back 
through  the  long  story  of  grace,  through  the  complete 
revelation  of  God — and  here  is  one  precious  link  in 
that  gleaming  chain  of  gracious  self-emptying. 
"Shew  me  Thy  glory,  I  beseech  Thee.  I  will  make 
all  My  goodness  pass  before  thee." 

The  glory  of  God's  loving-kindness !  Do  we  not 
know  it  in  our  own  personal  experience,  and  recog- 
nise the  beauty  and  the  majesty?     We  cannot  look 


GLORY   OF   LOVING-KINDNESS    171 

back  over  the  way  by  which  we  have  been  led  without 
seeing  it  every  inch  of  the  way,  how  God  has  given 
ns  a  hundred  opportunities  to  be  persuaded  by  His 
goodness  for  every  one  to  be  driven  by  His  judg- 
ments. We  ought  to  see  God's  loving  hand  in  all 
the  joy  of  life  as  well  as  in  the  sorrow,  in  the  light 
and  beauty  and  gracious  blessings  as  well  as  in  the 
surprises  of  misfortune  and  the  ugly  corners  of  the 
road.  Above  all,  the  thought  of  the  wonderful 
patience  and  forbearance  of  God  should  breed  in  us 
penitence  and  faith.  How  He  has  borne  with  us,  and 
still  bears!  So  great  is  that  patience  that  in  the 
perversity  of  our  hearts  we  despise  it  and  take  stupid 
advantage  of  our  respite.  But  when  at  last  we  awake 
to  that  daily,  hourly  mercy,  new  to  us  every  new 
day,  bearing  and  forbearing  in  spite  of  daily  prov- 
ocation, there  is  nothing  that  breaks  our  proud 
hearts  and  bends  our  stubborn  will  like  that.  It  is  a 
sign  of  our  crassness  and  dulness  of  soul  when  we 
look  upon  the  common  as  the  commonplace,  and 
despise  ordinary  mercies,  and  by  our  neglect  abuse 
daily  goodness.  It  is  a  sign  of  our  vulgar  material- 
ism of  mind  that  we  judge  things  so  superficially. 
Should  there  be  anything  which  should  so  melt  us  as 
the  thought  of  the  glory  of  God's  loving-kindness  and 
grace  ?     "Or  despiseth  thou  the  riches  of  His  good- 


172    GLORY    OF    LOVING-KINDNESS 

ness  and  forbearance  and  long-suffering;  not  knowing 
that  the  goodness  of  God  leadetli  tlicc  to  repentance  ?" 
]N"ot  liere  at  least  can  we  despise  it,  not  here 
where  we  have  such  an  example  and  illustration.  He 
makes  His  glory  pass  before  us,  before  our  wonder- 
ing eyes,  and  we  see  that  it  is  goodness,  the  astound- 
ing glory  of  broken  body  and  shed  blood,  the  ineffable 
goodness  of  love.  We  only  need  to  be  here  to  see  it ; 
w^e  only  need  to  take  in  our  hands  the  bread  and  the 
wine,  symbols  of  the  divine  goodness  beyond  speech 
and  beyond  thought  and  beyond  imagination.  We 
only  need  to  look.  Stand  still  and  see  the  salvation 
of  the  Lord.  "I  will  make  My  goodness  pass  before 
you."  What  a  procession  of  grace  and  mercy  and 
goodness  and  truth!  If  w^e  cannot  recognise  the 
glory  of  God  here,  then  are  we  too  dull  of  eye  and  of 
heart  ever  to  see  it.  But  we  see  it  as  it  passes  before 
us,  the  love  of  Christ's  life  and  death,  the  goodness 
and  mercy  that  have  followed  us  all  our  days.  Our 
best  preparation  for  Communion  is  a  grateful  medita- 
tion on  the  grandest  of  all  themes,  the  loving-kindness 
of  God.  As  we  remember  Jesus,  as  we  recall  what 
He  did  and  suffered,  how  He  lived  and  died,  how  He 
proclaimed  God's  name,  and  revealed  His  nature  as 
merciful  and  gracious,  longsuffering  and  abundant  in 
goodness  and  truth,  as  we  take  the  symbols  of  a  love 


GLORY    OF    LOVING-KINDNESS    173 

that  loved  unto  death,  our  hearts  melt  at  the  glorious 
spectacle  of  the  loving-kindness  of  God.  "I  beseech 
Thee,  shew  me  Thy  glory,"  we  say.  And  He  makes 
all  His  goodness  pass  before  us.  Of  His  fulness  we 
all  receive,  and  grace  for  grace. 


XVI 

THE  UNRECOGNISED  CHRIST:  A 
COMMUNION  SERMON 

Jesus  saith  unto  him.  Have  1  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  dost 
thou  not  know  me,  Philip  ? — St.  John  xiv,  9. 

When  onr  Lord  set  Himself  to  prepare  His  disciples 
for  His  departure  He  was  met  with  the  natural  diffi- 
culties of  unprepared  minds.  They  were  not  ready 
for  it,  and  had  not  been  thinking  of  it.  Hints  and 
foreshadowings  and  even  foretellings  had  passed  over 
them  without  any  definite  impression.  They  had 
not  been  looking  forward  at  all,  except  in  a  vague  way 
to  some  great  triumph  for  their  Master  when  all 
would  acknowledge  Him  as  they  did.  They  had  been 
content  with  the  present;  and  in  many  ways  it  was 
a  beautiful  trait  in  which  Jesus  must  have  found 
pleasure.  They  looked  to  Him  with  such  simple 
trust  and  loyalty  and  love,  that  the  future  had  for 
them  no  fears  or  doubts.  They  had  not  been  looking 
very  far  ahead  in  any  clear  fashion,  nor  had  they 
been  looking  very  deep   down.      They  had  simply 

174 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST    175 

taken  their  Master  as  He  appeared  to  them,  and 
their  thoughts  of  Him  had  not  much  subtlety  or 
profundity.  They  had  listened  to  His  teaching,  had 
followed  Him  in  confidence,  had  regarded  Him 
with  admiration  and  reverence  and  love.  They  had 
learned  to  know  Christ  in  the  flesh,  but  they  had  not 
thought  much  of  any  self-revelation  in  His  life 
except  in  rare  moments  of  insight,  and  had  put  from 
them  any  thought  of  His  death.  They  had  known 
Him  as  the  world  did  not  and  could  not  know  Him ; 
but,  after  all,  their  knowledge  was  largely  on  the 
surface. 

We  do  not  consider  enough  the  wonderful  patience 
of  Christ  in  His  training  of  the  twelve,  as  He  pre- 
pared the  little  patch  of  soil  for  the  seed.  How 
often  it  could  be  said  even  of  His  teaching,  "They 
understood  not  His  saying."  It  was  not  unbelief  so 
much  as  spiritual  obtuscness.  When  minds  are  pre- 
occupied with  their  own  conceptions,  their  own  fixed 
notions,  it  is  always  hard  to  get  even  a  hearing  for 
other  ideas  on  the  subject.  It  is  wrong  to  brand  the 
disciples  with  unbelief.  They  did  trust  Christ  and 
believe  on  Him — that  is  why  they  were  disciples. 
It  was  rather  slowness  of  spiritual  apprehension. 
They  were  slow  of  heart  to  believe  further ;  so  that 
their  Lord,  whom  they  loved  and  whom  they  thought 


176    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

they  knew,  was  in  many  ways  unknown  to  them. 
He  was  the  unrecognised  Christ,  though  not  in  the 
same  sense  or  in  the  same  degree  in  which  He  was 
unrecognised  by  the  world.  ''The  world  knew  Him 
not,"  The  Scribes  and  Pharisees  and  rulers  and  the 
mass  of  the  people  had  no  sort  of  recognition  of  Him 
at  all.  He  meant  nothing  to  them  beyond  the  bare 
fact  of  existence,  just  as  John  the  Baptist  lived  and 
died  without  the  real  significance  of  his  life  being 
understood;  as  Jesus  said  of  him,  "I  say  unto  you, 
Elias  is  come  already  and  they  knew  him  not." 

Some  of  the  difficulties  of  Christ's  preparation  of 
His  disciples  to  receive  deeper  ideas  of  His  person 
and  work  are  brought  out  in  the  narrative  of  this 
chapter.  Our  Lord  was  seeking  to  comfort  them  at 
His  approaching  departure.  Thomas  asked  for  fuller 
information  when  the  Master  spoke  about  going 
somewhere,  which  He  calls  the  Father's  House.  Part 
of  Christ's  reply  was  that  to  know  Himself  was  to 
know  the  Father  also.  "And  from  henceforth,"  He 
added,  "ye  know  Him  and  have  seen  Him."  Philip's 
request  shows  that  he  did  not  understand  the  infer- 
ence of  these  words;  for  he  interrupted  with  the 
prayer,  "Lord,  shew  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth 
us."  There  is  something  pathetic  in  the  very  words 
of  this  prayer,  suggesting  the  natural  desire  of  the 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST    177 

human  heart  to  enter  into  conscious  relations  with 
God,  to  see  the  Eather.  Philip  may  have  wanted 
some  visible  manifestation,  some  apocalypse  of  glory. 
He  gives  expression  to  the  common  thought  that 
surely  something  more  w^orthy  and  more  unmistaka- 
ble might  have  been  done  to  bring  God  near  to  us  than 
has  been  done.  ''Shew  us  the  Eather,  and  it  sufRcetli 
us"  is  the  cry  of  the  human,  both  in  its  instinctive 
need  for  God  and  in  its  slowness  to  vmderstand  spirit- 
ual revelation.  It  was  a  devout  and  sincere  wish, 
but  in  a  disciple  of  Jesus  it  was  a  very  disappointing 
one ;  for  it  put  the  emphasis  on  the  wrong  thing.  It 
asked  for  some  startling  outward  revelation  that 
would  convince  every  observer,  without  thinking  how 
little  such  a  revelation  was  worth.  The  revelation 
that  Jesus  was  making  was  one  of  God's  nature  and 
character  and  essential  being,  not  an  outside  attes- 
tation of  His  existence,  which  from  the  point  of  view 
of  religion  meant  nothing.  Here  again  it  is  not 
unbelief  that  prompted  Philip's  difficulty.  It  was 
slowness  of  understanding,  defective  spiritual  appre- 
hension, obtuseness,  ignorance. 

How  gentle  is  our  Lord's  rebuke,  if  it  can  be  called 
a  rebuke.  "Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and 
dost  thou  not  know  Me,  Philip  ?"  The  unrecognised 
Christ,  in  spite  of  all  the  opportunities  Philip  had 


178    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

received !  Could  I  come  so  close  to  you,  and  live 
alongside  of  you,  and  unfold  My  life  and  teaching 
and  personality  before  your  eyes,  and  be  so  long  time 
with  you,  without  being  recognised  ?  Is  it  possible  ? 
The  revelation  that  Philip  had  asked  for  had  been 
made.  Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  it  was  there. 
What  more  could  have  been  done  for  Philip  than  was 
done  ?  There  is  a  touch  of  sorrowful  surprise  in 
the  question,  "Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  dost  thou  not  know  Me  ?"  Philip  would 
fain  see  the  Father,  and  would  be  content  if  he 
could  but  be  sure  of  that.  He  was  seeking  the 
Father,  still  seeking  after  that  long  and  close  inter- 
course with  Jesus.  The  sorrow  of  the  unrecognised 
Christ ! 

It  was  a  spiritual  density  and  obtuseness  on 
Philip's  part,  a  want  of  insight ;  but  when  we  charge 
this  on  Philip,  are  we  not  made  to  pause  by  the 
thought  of  our  own  obtuseness  ?  May  not  the  charge 
be  made  against  us,  with  less  excuse  in  our  case  than 
in  Philip's,  "Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you, 
and  dost  thou  not  know  Me?"  To  the  Church  as 
well  as  to  the  world  may  the  Baptist's  words  be  often 
said  in  sorrow  and  in  surprise,  "There  standeth  One 
among  you  whom  ye  know  not."  How  possible  and 
how  easy  it  is  to  miss  the  significance  of  things,  we 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST    179 

are  surely  aware.  History  is  full  of  instances  of  the 
ultimate  importance  of  the  little,  unregarded,  unrec- 
ognised events,  and  of  the  ultimate  triviality  of  some 
of  the  things  that  bulked  large  in  men's  eyes.  A 
small  decision  bent  and  set  a  man's  whole  subsequent 
life.  A  slight  turn  of  policy  changed  the  destiny  of 
a  nation.  Or  an  unregarded  movement  coloured  and 
shaped  the  history  of  the  world.  N^obody  at  the  time 
thought  much  about  them.  They  were  unrecognised. 
Men  lacked  the  insight  and  the  appreciation  of  the 
true  relative  value  of  things  to  be  able  to  notice  and 
judge  of  what  was  happening. 

If  this  is  true  of  events  in  our  personal  and 
national  life,  how  much  more  true  and  more  common 
are  mistakes  in  the  far  subtler  region  of  spiritual 
judgment.  Thus,  it  is  far  harder  to  know  persons 
from  this  point  of  view  than  to  estimate  events. 
The  finer  a  man  is  in  temperament  and  the  more 
exceptional  he  is  in  nature  and  character  and  en- 
dowments, the  more  readily  is  he  misunderstood 
or  neglected.  It  is  not  only  in  Judea  that  men 
have  stoned  their  prophets  and  then  raised  monu- 
ments to  their  memory  when  dead.  Genius  has 
often  to  suffer  lack  of  recognition.  We  do  not  need 
to  labour  this  point  that  a  really  great  man  may  be 
for  a  long  time  among  us  and  yet  be  unknown  for 


180    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

what  he  is.  True  aj)preciation  is  indeed  very  rare. 
Our  minds  are  so  preoccupied  with  our  own  concerns ; 
we  are  so  obtuse  and  insusceptible,  that  we  easily 
make  a  mistaken  judgment  of  another,  or  sometimes 
we  even  think  him  hardly  worth  passing  a  judgment 
on,  till  afterwards  when  it  is  too  late  we  realise  what 
opportunities  we  have  missed. 

This  happens  all  along  the  line  of  life,  and  not 
merely  in  cases  of  exceptional  genius.  But  it  is 
particularly  true  in  dealing  with  spiritual  qualities. 
We  cannot  fully  appreciate  the  best  attributes  of 
a  man's  character,  even  though  he  is  often  in  our 
eyes  and  we  think  we  know  him  through  and 
through.  We  discover  afterwards  that  w^e  mis- 
judged or  at  least  did  not  truly  value  him.  How 
often  it  has  happened  that  some  inmate  of  a  home 
who  was  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course — I  do  not 
mean  neglected  or  despised  but  just  taken  for 
granted  carelessly — has  been  found  when  lost  to 
have  been  the  very  light  of  the  home,  the  source 
of  the  nnion  and  peace  enjoyed.  We  need  some- 
times to  be  blinded  with  seeing  tears  before  we  see. 
We  need  to  lose  before  we  really  find.  We  are  so 
obtuse,  or  so  self-centred,  or  so  thoughtless,  that 
another  can  be  a  long  time  with  us  without  our  in 
any  real  sense  knowing  him. 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST  181 

"Who  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man  but  the  spirit 
of  man  that  is  in  him  ?"  We  need  to  be  attuned 
to  the  same  key.  We  need  to  move  to  the  same 
motives  and  serve  the  same  purposes  and  be  inspired 
with  the  same  ideal ;  and  even  then  something  may 
escape  us  of  the  essential  spirit  of  the  man  we  judge. 
Statesmen  who  sat  on  the  same  bench  with  Mr.  Glad- 
stone did  not  know  till  his  Life  was  published  that 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  before  making  an  impor- 
tant speech  or  introducing  a  bill,  he  was  sitting  lifting 
up  his  heart  in  prayer  or  strengthening  himself  with 
a  verse  of  a  Psalm.  The  truth  is  that  we  do  not 
know  each  other ;  we  do  not  know  even  our  intimates. 
We  have  not  enough  sympathy  and  insight  and  per- 
ception to  really  understand.  Does  not  this  give 
us  some  consideration  for  Philip's  obtuseness  with 
regard  to  Christ,  with  whom  he  had  lived  and  whom 
he  had  followed,  and  the  significance  of  whose  person 
and  work  and  teaching  and  life  he  had  missed  ? 
"Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  dost  thou 
not  know  Me,  Philip  ?" 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  the  same  charge  of 
obtuseness  made  against  us  with  regard  to  Christ  ? 
It  is  a  charge  that  can  be  made  against  His  Church 
as  well  as  against  His  world.  The  world  was  made 
by  Him,  and  the  world  knew  Him  not.     The  world's 


182    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

history  is  being  made  by  Ilim ;  we  are  indebted  to 
Him.  for  all  that  is  trne  and  pure  and  great  in 
our  civilisation;  the  river  of  God  is  full  of  water 
and  flows  to  the  healing  of  the  nations;  the  in- 
fluence of  Jesus  permeates  our  whole  life ;  His  spirit 
is  to  be  seen  in  works  and  movements  and  institutions 
that  would  turn  the  desert  of  the  world  into  the 
garden  of  God ;  He  has  let  loose  forces  that  keep 
life  green  and  keep  society  sweet;  on  all  sides  are 
signs  of  His  working — and  yet  the  world  knows  Him 
not;  men  leave  Him  out  of  their  thinking,  their 
calculations,  their  philosophy.  He  is  the  unrecog- 
nised Christ  still.  Can  His  heart  feel  no  pang  that 
He  should  have  been  so  long  time  with  us,  so  long 
exercising  His  redemptive  ministry,  and  men  do  not 
know  Him  ? 

We  can  understand  thus  better  that  pathetic  word 
of  the  prophet  describing  the  unregarded  love  of 
God,  "I  taught  Ephraim  to  walk,  holding  them  by 
the  arms,  but  they  knew  not  that  it  was  I  who  healed 
them."  Blessed  love  of  God  that  is  not  tired  out 
by  the  ingratitude  of  man,  by  the  obtuseness  and 
blindness  of  our  hearts!  The  Impotent  man  at  the 
pool  who  waited  fruitlessly  for  the  moving  of  the 
waters  had  a  gracious  visitor  one  day.  Jesus  came 
and  Jesus  went,  "and  he  that  was  healed  wist  not  who 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST    183 

it  was."     He  only  learned  afterwards  when  Jesus 
found  him  in  the  Temple. 

Must  we  not  confess  that  this  spiritual  obtuseness 
which  fails  to  recognise  Christ  for  what  He  is  is  not 
confined  to  the  world  that  passes  by  without  thought, 
but  is  to  be  found  in  the  Church,  in  the  disciples 
to-day  as  in  Philip  of  old  ?  How  often  we  learn 
afterwards  the  truth  of  the  word,  "I  girded  thee, 
though  thou  didst  not  know  Me."  We  went  to  war  on 
our  own  charges,  as  we  thought,  and  we  learn  that  the 
reason  why  we  came  out  without  dishonour  did  not 
lie  in  ourselves.  It  comes  to  us  as  a  constant  sur- 
prise to  find  how  the  Lord  has  been  with  us  in  daily 
providence  in  the  past.  We  were  not  aware  of  it, 
but  He  was  there  besetting  us  behind  and  before  and 
laying  His  hand  upon  us.  All  the  mercy  and  good- 
ness and  loving-kindness  w^hich  have  followed  us 
we  do  not  know  even  now,  but  shall  know  hereafter. 
There  have  been  occasions  and  experiences  and  provi- 
dences to  the  meaning  and  the  mercy  of  which  we 
were  blind,  and  we  have  wakened  up  to  them  as 
Jacob  did  at  Bethel  saying,  "Surely  the  Lord  was 
in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  not."  Our  hearts  burn 
within  us  as  we  think  of  our  gracious  Companion,  so 
often  and  so  long  time  within  us,  unknown,  unre- 
garded, unrecognised. 


184    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

Yet  it  is  not  all  an  unhappy  thought,  however 
much  self-reproach  we  may  have  for  our  obtuseness. 
There  is  comfort  and  sweet  content  in  the  thought 
that  the  love  of  Christ  is  not  dependent  on  our 
complete  recognition  of  Him.  He  may  be  the  un- 
recognised Christ,  but  He  comes  to  seek  and  to  save 
the  lost.  There  is  comfort  in  the  thought  that 
though  we  are  blind  to  Him,  though  we  are  inter- 
mittent in  our  thought  of  Him  and  fickle  in  our 
love.  He  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever. 
John  Bunyan  in  his  Grace  Abounding  tells  of  the 
days  when  he  was  under  conviction,  how  he  found 
his  heart  shut  itself  up  against  the  Lord,  and  his 
unbelief  set  the  shoulder  to  the  door  to  keep  Him 
out,  even  when  he  was  most  eager  to  have  the 
gates  of  brass  broken.  "Yet,"  he  says,  "that  word 
would  sometimes  create  in  my  heart  a  peaceable 
pause,  I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not  known 
Me."  Surely  we  know  enough  to  trust  Him,  to  con- 
fide in  His  love,  and  to  plight  our  loyalty  to  Him 
and  offer  Him  our  service.  Was  He  not  known  to 
us  in  the  breaking  of  bread  ?  Did  we  not  get  new 
insight  into  His  love  ?  Long  time  it  may  be  He  had 
been  with  us,  but  that  simj^le  act  of  appropriating 
faith  brought  us  nearer  Him  and  we  learned  to  know 
Him  better.    We  crept  nearer  the  central  heat,  and 


THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST    185 

felt  ourselves  nearer  God.  "He  that  hath  seen  Me 
hath  seen  the  Father,"  He  hath  indeed  shown  us 
the  Father — and  it  sufiiceth  us. 

Have  some  of  you  refused  to  give  Him  any  sort  of 
recognition,  refused  to  make  even  the  simple  pro- 
fession of  faith  implied  in  the  sacrament  of  this  day  ? 
Have  you  refused  to  associate  yourselves  with  His 
Church,  and  refused  to  respond  to  His  love  ?  Have 
you  room  for  business,  for  pleasure,  for  all  the  things 
of  the  world,  and  all  the  ambitions  of  life,  and  no 
room  for  your  heart's  true  Master  and  your  life's  true 
Lord  ?  Have  you  had  time  for  all  sorts  of  things 
and  all  sorts  of  pursuits ;  and  no  time  for  a  thought 
of  Him  who  alone  can  save  your  pursuits  from  van- 
ity ?  "Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  by."  He  is  in 
our  midst:  His  spirit  is  in  all  the  good  of  our  lives: 
His  works  are  evident  on  every  hand:  He  is  not 
far  from  any  one  of  us.  He  comes  with  the  same 
appeal  as  of  old  for  discipleship.  He  makes  the  same 
offer  of  His  love  as  of  old.  He  claims  the  same 
service  as  of  old.  "If  any  man  serve  Me,  let  him 
follow  Me."  Shall  He  pass  out  of  your  ken,  unrec- 
ognised ?  Will  you  let  Him  go  before  He  bless  you  ? 
Will  you  let  Him  pass,  with  no  leap  of  your  heart 
to  His  appeal,  no  impulse  to  join  yourself  to  His 
company,  no  answer  to  His  pleading  love?     Will 


186    THE    UNRECOGNISED    CHRIST 

nothing  move  yon,  even  the  melting  passion  of  the 
Cross?  The  sorrow  of  the  unrecognised  Christ! 
And  all  the  time  you  are  thrusting  from  you  your 
own  true  life,  denying  what  you  really  most  desire. 

Ah  fondest,  blindest,  weakest, 

I  am  He  •whom  thou  seekest! 

Thou  drivest  love  from  thee,  who  drivest  Me. 


XVII 

THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  CHANGE 

Because  they  have  no  changes,  therefore  they  fear  not  God. 
— Psalm  Iv.  19. 

The  Psalmist  was  living  in  a  difficult  environment 
for  a  man  of  his  temper.  He  met  oppression,  and 
felt  the  high  hand  of  the  wicked.  He  saw  all  the 
sin  and  sorrow  of  the  city,  and  lived  among  violence 
and  strife,  where  the  strong  lorded  it  over  the  weak. 
He  felt  himself  a  mark  for  the  wicked  hatred  of 
those  in  power ;  and  worst  of  all  he  had  tasted  the 
bitterness  of  treachery,  when  his  dearest  friend,  with 
whom  he  took  sweet  counsel  and  in  whose  company 
he  had  walked  into  the  house  of  God,  turned  against 
him.  He  seemed  to  see  the  wicked  suffering 
nothing,  spreading  themselves  out  in  prosperity, 
sitting  securely  under  cloudless  skies;  while  he  was 
buffeted  by  the  windy  storm  and  tempest.  His 
heart  was  sore  pained  within  him,  not  merely  because 
of  his  own  troubles,  but  also  because  of  this  hard 
problem  of  God's  moral  government  of  men.     He 

187 


188      DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE 

longs  for  rest,  to  get  out  of  the  evil  city.  Better  the 
wilderness  than  the  stress  and  strain  of  his  present 
life !  "O  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove !  for  then 
would  I  fly  away  and  be  at  rest."  The  contrast  be- 
tween his  own  experience  and  the  seemingly  easeful, 
changeless  life  of  the  oppressors  wounded  him  to 
the  heart,  though  even  as  he  states  the  contrast  he 
has  glimmerings  of  a  great  truth  of  life  and  of 
spiritual  religion,  namely  that  there  is  a  divine  dis- 
cipline of  change  and  trouble,  that  these  things  can 
be  used  as  the  means  for  the  making  of  saints,  and 
that  the  security  and  rest  he  has  been  envying  may 
be  devil's  lures  to  make  men  forget  God  and  forget 
the  high  ends  of  human  life.  He  predicts  calamity 
for  these  same  oppressors  who  seem  above  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  fortune ;  and  he  sees  that  their  very  im- 
munity from  trouble  has  misled  them.  The  seeds 
of  their  deepest  ruin  have  been  sown  in  the  sunshine 
of  perpetual  prosperity.  "Because  they  have  no 
changes,  therefore  they  fear  not  God." 

If  we  know  anything  of  history  and  anything  of 
our  own  heart,  we  will  admit  the  great  truth  sug- 
gested by  the  Psalmist,  that  when  men  live  a  smooth 
and  easy  life  undisturbed  by  fear  and  unbroken  by 
misfortune,  the  tendency  is  towards  practical  mate- 
rialism where  God  is  in  none  of  their  thoughts,  and 


DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE       189 

sometimes  even  towards  an  infatuation  of  pride 
which  makes  them  imagine  themselves  outside  the 
plane  of  ordinary  human  life.  Other  Psalmists 
speak  of  this  same  fact,  as  for  example  in  the  tenth 
Psalm,  where  the  wicked  man  swollen  with  pride 
says  in  his  heart,  "I  shall  not  be  moved,  for  I  shall 
never  be  in  adversity,"  regardless  of  possible  mis- 
fortune, and  quite  regardless  of  inevitable  death. 
Put  into  words,  such  thoughts  of  the  heart  seem  like 
exaggeration  which  no  man  would  speak,  but  such 
men  live  as  if  it  were  so,  and  never  take  into  account 
the  facts,  even  such  an  evident  fact  as  that  of 
mortality,  like  the  drunkards  of  Isaiah's  denuncia- 
tion, ^'To-morrow  shall  be  as  to-day,  only  much 
more  abundant."  It  is  the  lesson  of  all  religious 
experience  that  we  need  to  be  most  on  our  guard 
just  when  health  and  peace  and  prosperity  are  most 
fixed  and  continuous ;  and  it  is  the  lesson  of  all 
observation  that  evil  left  undisturbed  only  hardens 
itself  in  evil.  The  discipline  of  change  plays  a  large 
part  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  education  of  men, 
moving  them  to  finer  and  larger  issues,  deepening 
in  them  thought  and  feeling,  and  driving  them  to 
the  life  of  faith  and  communion.  "Because  they 
have  no  changes,  therefore  they  fear  not  God." 

It  is  strange  that  this  discipline  of  change  should 


190      DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE 

be  such  an  important  factor ;  for  we  almost  feel  it  to 
be  unnatural.  The  natural  heart  of  man  longs  for 
peace,  and  looks  to  repose  as  fit  and  proper.  It 
soon  wearies  of  storm  and  struggle.  Like  the 
Psalmist  it  sighs  for  wings  like  a  dove  that  it  may 
fly  away  from  tempest  and  strife  and  be  at  rest. 
Our  natural  ideal  includes  not  the  dark  valley  of 
the  shadow,  but  only  the  green  pastures  and  quiet 
waters.  And  though  toil  and  strife  are  our  daily 
portion,  yet  amid  all  toil  and  strife  we  ever  look 
forward  to  a  tranquil  haven.  So  much  is  this  the 
desire  of  our  heart  that  we  may  be  said  almost  to 
live  in  a  kind  of  protest  against  the  whirling  universe 
of  which  we  are  a  rebellious  part.  We  feel  ourselves 
in  the  midst  of  ceaseless  change  and  decay,  and  are 
always  seeking  a  centre  of  rest.  We  would  hasten 
our  escape  from  the  windy  storm  and  tempest. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  some  seeming  exceptions  to 
this  natural  conservatism  and  hatred  of  change  and 
longing  for  peace,  such  as  the  time  of  youth  which 
opens  its  arms  for  the  stirring  adventures  of  life, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  ardent  reformer  which  longs 
for  change  to  produce  the  desired  reformation;  but 
these  exceptions  are  more  apparent  than  real.  It 
is  true  that  youth  often  welcomes  the  strife  and 
plunges  with  zest  into  every  opportunity  of  adven- 


DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE      191 

ture ;  but  it  is  with  the  dream  that  one  day  it  will 
emerge  in  victory  and  enjoy  a  well-earned  reward 
of  success.    It  is  also  true  that  the  reformer  actively 
opposes  the  natural  conservatism  of  men  and  looks 
to  change,  sometimes  even  to  violent  change,  for  the 
realisation  of  his  scheme  of  reform ;  but  this  is,  after 
all,  only  a  means  to  him,  not  an  end.     The  end  is 
that  society  may  through  the  change  reach  a  more 
permanent  stability,  and  be  established  more  securely 
in  prosperity  and  peace.     It  is  not  for  the  sake  of 
the  task  itself,  but  for  what  the  task  will  bring,  that 
men  undertake  it.     In  all  our  fighting  there  ever 
lies  behind  the  hope  of  the  good  time  coming  when 
arms  can  be  laid  down  in  peace  with  honour. 

Yet  with  all  our  longing  for  peace,  we  are  played 
on  by  forces  that  make  for  change  and  unrest, 
swirled  by  the  ceaseless  flux  and  flow  of  the  tide. 
We  have  no  security  of  tenure,  open  as  we  are  any 
moment  to  any  blow,  or  to  be  struck  down  at  any 
corner  of  the  road.  We  can  be  affected  by  endless 
vicissitudes,  or  desolated  by  loss  so  severe  that  we 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  All  the  metaphors  to 
express  life  touch  on  this  aspect.  It  is  like  the 
swift  ships,  says  Job,  like  ships  driven  out  in  the 
darkness,  tossed  on  the  storm,  battling  on  to  a  quiet 
harbour.     It  is  like  vapour  on  the  hills,  says  St. 


192      DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE 

James,  like  the  fragile  mist  that  can  be  withered  by 
sun  or  torn  by  wind.  There  is  no  real  rest  in  the 
world,  for  body  or  mind  or  heart  or  soul.  This 
condition  of  unstable  equilibrium  is  of  course  most 
evident  in  connection  with  outward  things  in  our 
life,  the  trappings  and  circumstances.  But  the  same 
transiency  is  seen  in  inward  things  also.  Even  love 
suifers  loss,  as  the  objects  of  love  pass  off  at  the 
dread  call  of  death.  Even  faith  cannot  remain  fixed, 
but  has  new  problems  which  demand  new  efforts 
at  adjustment.  Thus  constant  demands  are  made 
on  us,  as  we  are  tossed  out  of  the  easy  grooves 
of  thought  and  action  which  we  love  so  much.  We 
are  subjected  at  every  point  to  the  discipline  of 
change,  so  that  the  world  almost  appears  to  us  as 
a  kaleidoscope  that  changes  the  picture  at  every 
shake. 

We  must  admit  also,  if  we  are  honest  with  our- 
selves, that  we  need  the  stimulus  of  constant  change 
if  life  is  to  attain  its  best  results.  We  settle  down 
in  slothful  ease  and  sluggish  indifference,  with  eyes 
blinded  and  hearts  made  fat  by  the  prosperity  that 
knows  no  fear.  Changelessness  would  only  lull  the 
senses  and  the  faculties  to  sleep.  We  are  only  kept 
alert  by  the  unstable  tenure  with  which  we  hold  life 
and  all  it  contains.    If  we  knew  we  would  only  meet 


DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE       193 

the  expected,  and  always  at  the  expected  turn  of 
the  road,  there  could  be  no  expectation  at  all,  no 
wonder,  no  apprehension,  no  fear,  no  hope,  no  faith. 
Experience  could  bring  no  education;  and  all  our 
powers  would  become  atrophied. 

Most  of  all  is  this  true  in  the  moral  sphere.  It  is 
in  no  lotus  isle  that  men  are  bred.  In  the  stress 
and  the  strain  of  life  character  is  formed.  Through 
doubt  and  uncertainty  and  the  sore  trial  of  faith  is 
faith  alone  made  perfect.  The  pangs  of  anxiety  give 
love  a  new  music  and  a  new  meaning.  The  full 
trough  is  enough  to  fatten  swine,  but  more  is  needed 
for  the  making  of  men.  If  all  went  smoothly  and 
softly,  if  life  knew  no  dread  menace,  if  every  wind 
were  tempered  for  us  and  an  easy  path  ever  prepared 
for  the  feet,  would  we  be  better  men  and  women? 
Being  such  persons  as  we  are,  if  we  had  our  lubber- 
land  of  bliss,  would  we  lift  our  eyes  above  and 
beyond?  If  there  were  no  changes,  would  we  fear 
God? 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  degeneracy  has  always  set 
in  both  with  nations  and  with  men  when  prosperity 
has  been  unchecked  and  the  sunshine  of  favour  has 
been  unalloyed.  The  great  races  have  been  reared 
through  conflict  and  struggle,  emptied  from  vessel 
to  vessel  till  they  were  purified  from  the  lees.     It  is 


194      DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE 

through  the  conquest  of  nature,  and  through  the 
conquest  of  enemies,  and  through  self-conquest  that 
the  conquering  peoples  have  been  built.  The  lesson 
is  painted  on  a  large  canvas  in  universal  history; 
and  it  is  repeated  to  us  in  miniature  in  individual 
experience.  Men  live  only  by  custom  and  con- 
vention when  they  are  withdrawn  from  this  discipline 
of  change;  and  to  live  only  by  custom  is  to  be 
drugged  by  an  opiate.  Everything  that  makes  man 
great  partakes  of  the  discipline.  There  is  no  music 
in  a  monotone :  there  is  no  art  in  one  universal 
drab  colour.  Thought  is  born  of  mystery.  Science 
is  the  daughter  of  wonder,  and  wonder  is  the  fruit 
of  all  the  changes  and  movements  of  the  world. 
Religion  even  has  her  secure  empire  in  the  hearts 
of  men  through  the  needs  of  men's  hearts,  chief 
of  which  is  the  need  of  a  changeless  centre  in  the 
midst  of  change.  In  all  regions  we  are  trained  and 
disciplined  by  the  surprises  of  life,  even  by  the 
precarious  hold  we  have  on  all  that  we  possess. 
When  we  have  no  changes  we  fear  not  God :  when  we 
have  no  lessons  which  convince  us  of  our  weakness 
we  grow  self-sufficient  and  self-indulgent.  We  can- 
not do  without  the  sharp  lessons,  even  the  bolts  that 
come  out  of  the  blue  that  show  us  how  helpless  we 
are.     Every  deep  crisis  of  life,  with  its  thrill  of  joy 


DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE       195 

or  its  spasm  of  sorrow,  with  its  message  of  loss  or 
of  gain,  is  part  of  God's  higher  education.  ''Lord, 
by  these  things  men  live,"  said  Hezekiah  raised  from 
the  brink  of  the  grave ;  and  many  a  man  since  Heze- 
kiah's  time  has  known  how  true  this  is. 

How  easily  we  forget  God !  How  readily  we  live 
for  the  present,  and  float  idly  on  the  surface  of 
things  when  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  lie  back 
and  let  the  stream  carry  us!  Moral  degeneracy 
creeps  upon  the  man  or  the  nation  that  sits  at  ease, 
as  the  stagnant  pool  breeds  malaria.  The  water 
needs  to  be  ruffled  by  breeze  and  stirred  by  storm. 
We  are  not  fit  for  the  peace  and  prosperity  for  which 
our  hearts  long.  Sometimes  even  the  languid,  heavy 
atmosphere  needs  the  thunder  and  the  lightning  and 
the  tornado.  If  it  be  so,  if  to  have  no  changes  is 
to  lose  the  fear  and  worship  and  love  of  God,  if 
to  have  what  we  desire  is  to  smother  the  soul  in 
fatness,  then  banish  the  evil  dream  of  ease,  the  un- 
sanctified  longing  for  rest;  rise  eagerly  from  these 
low  levels;  move  swiftly  to  every  high  thought  and 
noble  passion  and  generous  service ;  thus  even  creat- 
ing the  occasions,  welcoming  the  changes  that  remind 
us  of  God,  that  recall  us  to  our  great  vocation  as  the 
children  of  God,  who  cannot  be  satisfied  with  plenty 
of  victuals  and  freedom  from  care  if  the  craving 


196       DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE 

of  heart  and  spirit  find  no  satisfaction.  The  cloud- 
less sky  is  a  mockery  if  it  speak  not  to  us  of  God. 
The  gaining  of  the  whole  world  is  failure  if  it  mean 
to  lose  the  soul.  The  light  is  darkness  if  it  hide  from 
us  the  eternal  world  which  is  our  true  home.  It  is  a 
poor  thing  to  have  immunity  from  changes,  if  by  that 
we  have  lost  our  fear  and  reverence  and  love  of  God. 

The  discipline  of  change  is  meant  to  drive  us 
out  beyond  the  changing  hour  to  the  thought  of 
eternity,  out  from  the  restless  things  of  sense  to 
find  rest  in  God.  The  deepest  lesson  is  that  which 
the  Psalmist  reached  through  all  his  troublous 
experience,  "Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord,  and  He 
shall  sustain  thee:  He  shall  never  suffer  the  right- 
eous to  be  moved."  He  is  the  changeless  in  the 
midst  of  change,  a  centre  of  rest  for  the  restless 
soul  of  man.  He  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  for  ever;  the  same  in  nature,  in  character,  in 
love,  even  as  Jesus  revealed  Him,  the  Eternal  Father 
who  yearns  over  His  children  in  deathless  love. 

"Because  they  have  no  changes,  therefore  they 
fear  not  God."  If  that  is  failure,  even  though  it 
means  continual  peace  and  prosperity,  what  shall 
we  say  of  the  failure  of  those  who  know  the 
desolation  and  terror  of  change  and  yet  have  not 
learned,  who  still  cling  to  the  things  of  sense  that 


DISCIPLINE    OF    CHANGE       197 

have  failed  them  before,  who  have  suffered  all  the 
strokes  of  fortune,  all  the  pangs  of  heart,  all  the 
shocks  that  paralyse  the  soul,  and  yet  have  never 
submitted,  never  trusted,  never  feared,  never  loved 
God  ?  What  failure  is  like  that  of  those  who  have 
been  chastened  and  yet  never  been  softened,  who 
have  gone  through  the  fire  without  learning  the 
lesson,  who  have  tasted  the  sorrow  without  the 
sympathy,  who  have  borne  the  cross  without  the 
love?  What  shall  we  say  of  those  who  have  lost 
the  soul  without  even  gaining  the  world,  who  know 
the  illusion  of  life  without  learning  the  meaning  of 
it,  who  have  seen  through  the  transient  show  of 
things  but  without  reaching  to  the  heart  of  love? 
If  it  be  failure  to  have  missed  the  fear  of  God 
even  though  fortune  has  smiled  its  fairest,  what 
failure  is  that  which  has  been  broken  by  change, 
and  come  through  all  its  discipline,  and  yet  is 
deaf  to  the  lesson?  A  more  tragic  failure  than 
that  of  our  text  is  it  to  have  to  say.  Although  they 
have  changes,  yet  they  fear  not  God. 


XVIII 

FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

These  all  died  in  faith,  not  having  received  the  promises,  but  having 
seen  them  afar  off. — Hebrewb  xi.  13. 

In  this  magnificent  catalogue  of  heroes  the  one 
point  of  union  is  their  faith.  In  diverse  situa- 
tions, at  vastly  different  periods  of  history,  each 
with  his  own  particular  work  and  his  own  special 
temptation,  the  problem  of  life  to  all  was  essen- 
tially the  same,  and  the  solution  they  reached  was 
the  same.  The  one  common  element  is  that  they 
lived  by  faith.  ]^ow  faith  is  the  assurance  of 
things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen. 
Divided  by  centuries,  separated  by  all  the  variety 
of  environment  that  we  express  by  the  phrase  the 
gulf  of  time,  they  were  alike  in  this,  that  they  all 
had  the  inward  eye,  and  saw  beneath,  and  above,  and 
beyond.  In  all,  and  through  all,  and  above  all,  they 
saw  God,  and  lived  in  the  inspiring  vision  of  God. 

The  world,  with  its  dull  eyes  and  gross  touch  upon 
life,    calls   this   motive   unreal,    and   derides   it   as 

198 


FAITH'S    ILLUSION  199 

intangible  and  visionary.  But  where  in  all  history  is 
to  be  found  such  a  motive  for  great  action  and  great 
thought  ?  The  apostle  frankly  calls  it  visionary, 
and  makes  that  the  one  test  and  dividing  line  among 
men.  The  heroes  of  faith  all  lived  upon  promises, 
things  only  hoped  for;  and  conquered  the  world  and 
endured  as  seeing  the  invisible,  never  content  with 
the  present,  ever  seeking  a  country,  looking,  ever 
looking  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God.  From  age  to  age  the  just 
have  lived  by  faith ;  from  age  to  age  they  have  stood 
as  a  protest  against  materialism  which  in  some  form 
or  other  is  the  persistent  temptation  of  the  human 
heart;  from  age  to  age  God  has  had  His  witnesses. 
The  centuries  are  bound  together  by  the  golden  chain 
of  faith.  The  wonderful  roll-call  of  faith  in  this 
chapter  of  Hebrews  is  only  typical  of  that  great 
society  among  the  sons  of  men,  "the  noble  Living  and 
the  noble  Dead." 

The  essential  feature  of  this  nobility  is  what  the 
apostle  calls  faith,  by  which  men's  souls  were  re- 
leased from  the  entanglements  of  the  present,  and 
set  to  thoughts  of  high  emprise.  The  immediate 
effect  of  their  work  was  often  very  little;  they 
sowed  for  what  their  own  hands  could  not  reap; 
they    struggled    after    what    could    not    be    easily 


200  FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

realised,  even  after  what  could  not  sometimes  be 
put  in  words;  and  at  the  last  failure  could  be 
written  over  their  work;  they  had  nothing  to  show 
for  it  but  a  dream;  they  had  lived  on  the  strength 
of  an  empty  promise,  and  died  not  having  received 
the  promise,  but  they  died  in  faith. 

Is  not  this  a  true  reading  and  interpretation  of 
the  lives  of  Old  Testament  saints  ?  There  is  a  sense 
of  incompleteness  everywhere,  a  lack  of  fulfilment. 
It  is  an  unfinished  story.  The  soldiers  fight  and 
fall  in  an  inconclusive  battle.  The  story  has  no 
end :  it  has  ever  to  be  continued.  Men  project  their 
lives  into  the  future,  and  suffer  continually  from 
the  thraldom  of  the  present.  The  temple  which 
eager  brains  and  hands  strive  to  build  is  not  for  them- 
selves, build  they  never  so  manfully.  Was  there  ever 
so  ineffective  an  ending  as  that  of  Abraham,  the 
father  of  the  faithful  himself?  Leaving  home  and 
kindred  with  the  vision  of  a  splendid  inheritance, 
and  dying  merely  the  head  of  a  few  shepherds,  with 
no  foot  of  ground  to  call  his  own  but  the  tomb  in 
which  his  dead  body  was  laid  ?  Generations  passed 
away  after  him  with  the  same  futile  dream,  and  died 
with  nothing  but  as  heirs  of  the  same  promise — 
victims  of  an  idea,  seeing  it  afar  off,  and  never 
realising  it. 


FAITH'S    ILLUSION  201 

Take  any  stage  of  the  religious  history  of  Israel, 
and  the  same  thing  is  seen.  All  through  the  long 
decline  of  Israel  under  the  Kings,  the  spiritual 
significance  of  the  Davidic  ideal  of  a  king  grew. 
The  prophets  held  to  it,  and  pointed  to  the  glad 
time  when  it  would  be  fulfilled  by  a  son  of  David 
governing  the  kingdom  for  God.  The  people  buoyed 
themselves  up  in  the  hope  of  that  future  by  thoughts 
of  the  glorious  past.  There  was  partial  realisation  of 
the  ideal  in  some  of  David's  descendants,  such  as 
Hezekiah  and  Josiah,  who  were  pledges  of  the  King- 
dom to  come.  But  of  few  of  their  actual  kings  could 
it  be  said,  that  they  "did  that  which  was  right  in 
the  sight  of  the  Lord  like  their  father  David."  And 
through  the  very  disappointment  the  spiritualising  of 
the  faith  went  on,  till  a  prophet  saw  the  ideal  king  in 
a  gentle  sufferer,  bruised  for  the  iniquities  of  his 
race.  The  hope  of  the  future  Saviour  never  died 
out  of  Jewish  hearts.  The  faithful  of  all  ages 
waited  for  the  consummation  of  Israel,  living  on  a 
promise,  with  faith  in  things  not  seen.  These  all 
died  in  faith  not  having  received  the  promise,  seeing 
it  ever  afar  off. 

The  essential  quality  of  faith  is  still  the  same, 
and  to  us  also  come  only  new  promises,  new  visions, 
new  hopes,  which  demand  the  same  endurance,  and 


202  FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

ask  for  the  same  faith.  The  summit  of  the  moimt 
is  gained,  but  beyond  are  other  heights,  a  horizon 
beyond  every  horizon.  The  Kingdom  of  God  has 
no  boundaries,  no  limits  which  say  to  the  aspiring 
soul,  Thus  far  and  no  further!  The  ideal  recedes 
as  we  advance,  not  because  it  is  unrealisable,  but 
because,  as  it  is  being  realised,  it  grows  richer  and 
grander.  The  grace  of  God  is  infinite,  in  content  as 
well  as  in  extent.  There  are  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge  hid  with  Christ  in  God  to  be  re- 
vealed. The  writer  of  this  Epistle  declares  that  the 
promises  of  the  new  covenant  are  better  than  the 
promises  of  the  old  just  because  they  are  more 
spiritual.  The  old  promises  have  been  fulfilled,  but 
there  are  still  promises.  Here  like  Abraham,  he 
says,  have  we  too  no  abiding  city,  but  we  seek  one 
to  come.  Every  attaimnent  is  a  new  prophecy: 
every  fulfilment  is  a  new  promise. 

The  Master's  last  word  to  His  disciples  was,  "Be- 
hold, I  send  the  promise  of  My  Father  upon  you." 
The  Apostles  speak  of  the  promise  of  the  Spirit,  and 
the  Holy  Spirit  of  promise.  To  each  Christian  heart 
it  is  to  some  extent  fulfilled;  but  have  any  ever 
exhausted  the  promises,  so  that  there  is  nothing 
beyond,  no  longer  any  need  of  further  hope  and 
prayer  ?    Have  any  ever  got  to  the  end  of  the  prom- 


FAITH'S    ILLUSION  203 

ises?  We  have  enough  for  life  and  for  death;  we 
see  far  enough  to  walk,  and  have  experience  enough 
to  believe.  And  in  this  sense  the  promise  of  the 
Father  is  fulfilled  to  us,  so  that  it  is  possible  for  a 
believer  to  say,  as  I  heard  it  of  an  old  saint,  who 
as  he  was  a-dying  wakened  up  to  a  moment  of  con- 
sciousness, and  whispered  to  his  friends,  "I  want  to 
tell  you  that  none  of  the  promises  have  failed."  He 
meant  that  the  love  of  God  was  sufficient  for  him 
even  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow;  he  tasted  the 
sweetness  of  perfect  trust  in  Christ  his  Saviour ;  but 
for  him  too  there  were  to  be  new  awakenings,  new 
openings  of  the  way,  other  heights  in  other  lives. 

We  too  must  be  saved  by  hope,  as  truly  as  the 
patriarchs.  We  too  must  live  by  faith  as  they  lived. 
The  promise  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Church  has  heights 
unsealed,  and  depths  unfathomed.  We  pray  still  for 
the  Kingdom  to  come,  come  though  it  is,  and 
comipg.  The  Kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  in  the 
hearts  of  men,  in  the  midst  of  men,  what  it  shall 
mean  in  the  personal  life,  what  it  must  mean  in  the 
social  life,  who  can  predict  its  fortunes,  and  set 
bounds  to  its  sway?  Who  can  cast  a  horoscope  for 
the  King  who  comes  to  His  own?  The  Kingdom 
of  Heaven,  not  realised,  but  being  realised,  who  can 
put  words  to  the  promise  and  potency  of  it?     The 


204  FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

world's  redemption  is  in  it:  the  future  of  man  is 
bound  up  with  it.  We  must  look  far  through  time 
to  see  the  climax  of  the  Kingdom,  begun  as  a  grain 
of  mustard  seed.  We  too  must  die  in  faith,  not  hav- 
ing received  the  promise,  but  seeing  it  afar  off,  a 
glory  that  shall  be  revealed. 

Life  shall  be  judged  not  by  its  grasp,  but  by  its 
reach;  not  by  its  failure  to  receive,  but  its  faith  to 
dream  and  dare.  When  Seville  Cathedral,  one  of 
the  glories  of  Spain,  was  being  built,  they  said,  "Let 
us  build  such  a  work  that  those  who  come  after  us 
shall  take  us  to  have  been  mad."  ISTay,  the  men  of 
the  time  might  think  the  project  madness  and  might 
sneer  at  the  dreamers,  but  not  those  who  come  after 
and  see  the  noble  building.  ISTay,  they  are  justified 
at  last,  as  all  who  work  in  faith  are  justified,  whether 
they  receive  the  promise  in  their  own  time  or  not. 
The  work  which  has  no  inspiring  motive  of  faith, 
which  has  no  touch  of  romance,  the  work  which  has 
no  larger  object  than  itself,  fails.  The  life  which 
has  no  outlook,  no  thought  for  anything  but  itself, 
the  life  which  will  not  venture  forth  in  faith,  which 
will  not  risk  a  noble  shipwreck,  fails.  The  character 
which  is  not  built  on  a  foundation  broader  than  is 
justified  by  the  length  of  life,  which  leaves  out  of 
account  the   promise   of  the   future,   the   character 


FAITH'S    ILLUSION  205 

which  shapes  itself  only  for  the  passing  day,  fails. 
While  the  work  and  character  and  life  which  are 
inspired  by  faith,  have  in  them  the  seeds  of  eternity. 
They  die  not  who  die  in  faith.  They  live  not  in 
vain  who  live  in  faith.  Though  they  receive  not 
the  promise,  as  the  world  counts  receiving,  yet  they 
live  by  the  promise.  Scoffers  say,  Where  is  the 
promise  of  His  coming?  but  the  heart  of  faith  sees, 
though  afar  off,  yet  sees  the  flaming  of  the  advent 
feet. 

The  true  test  of  life,  the  standard  by  which  it 
must  be  judged,  is  not  attainment,  but  faith.  One 
man  may  set  before  him  a  small  purpose,  and  may 
succeed.  Another  may  have  a  large  design,  and 
may  fail.  One  man  may  always  keep  well  within 
the  practicable:  another  may  strive  after  the  im- 
possible. We  know  how  the  world  with  its  outside 
standards  will  arrange  the  two  men.  It  has  rough- 
and-ready  classifications.  But  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  man  put  down  by  the  world  as  a  failure  is  such. 
He  may  have  failed  because  he  tried  for  things 
which  the  world  has  no  value  for,  but  which  yet  are 
invaluable.  For  instance,  the  man  who  strives  to 
amass  a  fortune  may  succeed,  and  may  deserve  his 
success  for  his  enterprise,  and  foresight,  and  strenu- 
ous work.     We  can  at  once  put  a  value  to  what  he 


206  FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

has  achieved.  A  man  who  sets  before  himself 
mental  culture,  or  even  more  the  man  who  gives 
himself  to  growth  in  grace,  to  the  development  of 
spiritual  character,  cannot  flaunt  his  achievements 
in  all  men's  eyes.  He  may  even  have  failed  in 
reaching  the  highest  to  which  he  set  himself — is  he 
therefore  on  a  lower  plane  than  the  other  ?  Nay,  it 
may  be  that  he  is  of  a  finer  quality,  and  for  that 
reason  aimed  at  higher  quarry.  It  may  be  that  he 
has  touched  heights  of  which  the  other  has  not  even 
dreamed.  To  die  not  having  received  that  for  which 
he  strove  seems  utter  failure.  To  have  only  seen 
afar  off  that  for  which  he  lived  seems  failure.  But 
the  success  is  to  have  seen  at  all.  Speak  not  of 
failure  of  the  man  who  dies  in  faith,  who  dies  as  he 
has  lived  with  liis  face  to  heaven. 

Brethren,  seek  earnestly  the  best  gifts ;  for  not  by 
what  you  get  but  by  what  you  seek  will  your  life  be 
judged;  not  by  what  you  receive  but  by  what  you 
see ;  not  by  the  gain  but  by  the  faith.  In  life  we 
often  get  by  the  way  more  than  the  goal  itself  con- 
tains. The  real  gain  of  learning  is  not  the  price  it 
can  command  in  the  market  when  acquired,  but 
itself,  the  enrichment  of  mind  the  pursuit  brings. 
The  gain  of  godliness  is  not  anything  it  can  do  for 
"US  as  a  policy,  but  itself,  the  deepening  of  the  soul. 


FAITH'S    ILLUSION  207 

The  value  of  the  promise  which  turns  our  eyes  to 
God  and  our  feet  into  the  way  of  His  command- 
ments, is  not  the  particular  fulfilment  of  the  promise, 
but  the  effect  of  it  in  so  turning  us  to  God.  The 
promise  may  never  be  fulfilled  as  we  expect  it,  and 
yet  may  effect  its  great  purpose  on  us  all  the  same. 
Jeremiah's  thought  of  a  King  in  Jerusalem  as  a 
sig-net-ring  on  the  hand  of  God  was  never  literally 
fulfilled,  but  was  it  nothing  to  Israel  and  to  him 
that  he  dreamed  the  dream?  It  prepared  the  way 
for  a  greater  than  Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  He 
died  in  a  foreign  land  of  a  broken  heart  with  all  his 
hopes  for  Israel  shattered ;  he  never  received  the 
promise ;  but  he  died  in  faith,  seeing  the  glory  of 
the  Messiah  afar  off.  To  die  in  faith  is  to  know  as 
the  aged  saint  knew  that  none  of  the  promises  have 
failed ;  for  His  love  f aileth  never. 

The  promises  are  not  for  their  own  sake ;  but  for 
our  sake,  that  through  the  very  elusiveness  of  all 
earthly  realisations  we  may  be  led  to  a  greater  end. 
This  elusiveness  is  part  of  God's  education  for  us. 
It  is  meant  to  lead  us  past  all  worldly  ends,  past  all 
earthly  fulfilments,  past  all  promises  themselves,  to 
God  the  Promiser.  This  is  the  avowed  purpose  of 
them.  "There  are  given  unto  us  exceeding  great 
and  precious  promises;  that  by  these  ye  might  be 


208  FAITH'S    ILLUSION 

partakers  of  the  divine  nature,  and  escape  the  cor- 
ruption that  is  in  the  world  through  lust."  Blessed 
promises,  exceeding  great  and  precious,  that  result 
in  such  an  escape  and  such  a  partaking!  Blessed 
faith  which  so  keeps  the  garments  clean  for  the  hope 
set  before  us,  however  far  off !  Blessed  failure  which 
has  such  splendid  success !  Blessed  though  we  see  not 
all  things  brought  under  us  if  we  see  Jesus  who 
confirms  the  promises  made  unto  the  fathers,  if  we 
see  Jesus,  the  conquering  Christ  putting  all  things 
under  His  feet,  the  first-fruits  of  our  redeemed 
humanity ! 

Children  of  the  promise,  born  into  the  covenant, 
it  is  not  for  us  to  measure  results,  and  ask  for  signs, 
and  walk  by  sight.  Children  of  the  promise,  it  is 
for  us  to  live  in  the  power  of  an  endless  life,  and  die 
in  faith.  Children  of  the  promise,  let  us  too  look 
and  pray  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations,  and  seek 
a  better  country,  and  keep  step  with  Christ  as  He 
leads  us  to  new  tasks  and  untrodden  paths,  to  the 
City  of  God. 


XIX 
STRIFE  VERSUS   LOVE 

Let  nothing  he  done  through  strife  or  vain-glory;  but  in  lowliness  oj 
mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than  themselves. — Philippians  ii.  3. 

Hitherto  the  Philippian  Church  had  given  St.  Paul 
unalloyed  gladness.  He  asks  them  now  to  fulfil 
his  joy,  to  make  his  cup  brim  to  overflowing.  He 
tells  them  that  the  way  to  do  this,  to  give  him 
a  joy  as  pure  as  the  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels,  is  to  display  in  their  midst  unity,  and  peace, 
and  love.  He  demands  from  them  more  than  per- 
sonal faith  and  righteous  life.  He  longs  to  see  the 
Christian  social  virtues  fully  developed  among  them, 
till  they  become  a  true  Christian  community,  of  one 
heart  and  mind,  ruled  not  by  selfishness  but  by  love. 
Such  a  society,  inspired  with  such  noble  motives, 
where  every  part  found  its  fit  place  in  humble  and 
devoted  service,  would  have  something  of  the  radiant 
beauty  of  the  life  of  Christ.  In  furtherance  then  of 
this  ideal — this  dream  of  the  Apostle's,  if  you  like — 
he  says,  "Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain- 

209 


210  STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE 

glory;   but   iu  lowliness   of  mind   let  each   esteem 
other  better  than  themselves." 

The  word  translated  "strife"  means  not  so  much 
personal  as  party  contention,  factiousness,  setting 
up  one  section  against  another,  creating  divisions, 
each  seeking  to  get  the  better  of  the  other,  each 
with  its  party  cry,  and  each  dominated  by  party 
spirit,  one  saying  as  happened  in  the  Corinthian 
Church,  "I  am  of  Paul,"  another  "I  am  of  Apollos," 
instead  of  being  all  moved  by  mutual  desire  for  the 
good  of  all.  "Vain-glory"  of  course  means  the  per- 
sonal vanity  which  incites  a  man  to  fight  for  his  own 
hand,  and  push  his  own  claims  on  all  occasions, 
regardless  of  other  and  wider  interests.  These  are 
the  two  great  social  jolagues,  which  keep  a  commu- 
nity from  realising  the  peace  and  concord  of  the 
Christian  ideal,  where  all  are  for  each  and  each  is 
for  all — the  undue  development  of  the  spirit  of 
faction,  and  the  undue  assertion  of  selfish  personal 
aims.  Both  are  here  condemned.  Opposed  to  both, 
Paul  puts  lowliness  of  mind,  the  humility  which  is 
born  of  love  and  which  has  its  outcome  in  generous 
service.  The  harmony  of  a  Church  may  be  destroyed 
by  party  spirit,  sectional  strife,  seeking  not  the 
greatest  good  of  the  whole  but  the  triumph  of  a 
party :  or  the  harmony  may  be  destroyed  by  personal 


STRIFE  VERSUS    LOVE    211 

ambition,  when  men  seek  their  own  selfish  aggran- 
disement, and  are  inspired  by  vanity  rather  than  by 
the  love  of  the  brethren.  St.  Paul  asks  the  Philip- 
pians  to  resist  both  temptations,  as  sins  against 
Christian  charity.  "Let  nothing  .be  done  through 
strife  or  vain-glory." 

There  are  two  great  opposing  motives  in  life, 
two  methods  of  doing  work,  strife  and  love,  com- 
petition and  co-operation;  and  it  is  not  difficult 
to  say  with  which  of  the  two  rests  the  hope  of 
the  race  for  a  higher  civilisation  and  true  religion. 
The  spur  of  competition  is  a  useful  motive  within 
limits,  but  all  social  progress  has  hitherto  been  got 
by  strengthening  and  restricting  the  limits.  Civili- 
sation only  begins  when  co-operation  of  some  sort 
comes  in,  when  the  struggle  for  existence  ceases  to 
be  a  purely  personal  one.  To  make  life  a  kind  of 
free  fight,  a  state  of  strife  where  a  man's  hand 
is  against  other  men's  and  theirs  against  his,  is  to 
reintroduce  anarchy,  and  anarchy  is  an  end  of  all 
things.  ]^o  pure  individualism  can  from  the  nature 
of  the  case  succeed  in  the  redemption  of  a  society. 
The  world  has  risen  from  savagery  by  putting  limits 
upon  strife  as  the  prime  j^rinciple  of  living.  Prog- 
ress has  been  achieved  through  the  social  bonds, 
through  the  family,  through  community  of  interests, 


212  STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE 

through  patriotism,  through  union  never  through 
disunion,  through  love  never  through  strife.  That 
is  one  reason  why  the  future  of  the  race  is  bound 
up  in  the  future  of  Christianity.  All  true  social 
progress  must  be  along  the  lines  laid  down  by 
Christ.  ]^aturally  we  have  even  in  our  Christian 
society  constant  instances  of  reversion  to  type,  just 
because  we  have  not  always  an  intelligent  apprecia- 
tion of  the  spiritual  principle  at  the  foundation 
of  the  social  structure.  We  fit  into  our  place,  and 
take  things  for  granted,  without  seeing  the  sublime 
religious  tendency  of  it  all.  Civilisation  without 
religion  is  merely  a  veneer.  Scratch  a  Christian 
and  you  often  get  a  Pagan.  Still  we  are  slowly 
learning  that  the  noblest  life  cannot  be  inspired  by 
strife  or  vain-glory.  We  are  slowly  learning  that 
mere  economic  theories  of  supply  and  demand,  and 
free  competition,  cannot  in  themselves  insure  either 
the  greatness  or  the  happiness  of  a  people.  And 
surely  the  Church  is  learning  that  only  through  hav- 
ing the  same  mind  as  the  Lord  Jesus,  only  through 
humility,  and  love,  and  service,  can  truth  be 
extended,  and  the  world  be  saved. 

We  overrate  the  value  to  society  of  ambition 
and  self-seeking.  We  are  often  told  of  the  advan- 
tage   derived    through    men    being    spurred    on    in 


STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE  213 

competition  by  vain-glory  and  by  getting  the  better 
of  their  fellows.  Even  Bacon,  in  his  Essay  which 
satirises  vain-glory,  speaks  of  its  advantage  in  great 
enterprises  of  business  and  state.  He  thinks  that 
in  military  commanders  and  soldiers  it  increases 
courage;  and  even  in  the  region  of  literature  has 
a  good  effect.  "In  fame  of  learning,  the  flight  will 
be  slow  without  some  feathers  of  ostentation."  We 
can  see  how  highly  we  value  emulation  as  a  motive 
if  we  think  how  closely  it  is  associated  with  almost 
every  department  of  life — education  for  example. 
We  imagine  that  little  can  be  done  without  the 
stimulus  of  competition,  so  we  establish  prizes  at 
school  and  college,  and  have  our  full-blown  system 
of  cram  and  examination — with  what  fatal  result 
on  true  education  we  are  beginning  to  find  out.  We 
habitually  over-estimate  the  lower  motives  in  life, 
emulation  and  the  desire  to  get  on  in  the  world  by 
elbowing  others.  Free  competition  in  everything, 
"every  man  for  himself  and  the  devil  take  the  hind- 
most"— what  true  work,  what  sublime  character, 
what  noble  life  have  ever  sprung  from  such?  The 
highest  motive  is  always  the  strongest,  if  we  would 
only  believe  it.  Why  should  we  make  so  much  of 
selfishness  as  a  motive,  and  imagine  that  the  world 
would  go  to  pieces,  if  it  were  left  out?     Bacon's 


214  STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE 

point  about  the  value  of  vain-glory  in  military 
affairs  cannot  be  true.  More  battles  have  been 
lost  through  vain-glory  and  emulation  than  have  ever 
been  won  by  it,  when  officers  seek  to  outshine  each 
other  instead  of  all  working  for  the  one  great  aim. 
Why  should  we  take  a  degrading  view  of  human 
nature  ?  Is  not  patriotism  a  stronger  and  nobler 
motive  to  a  soldier  than  any  selfish  one  could  possibly 
be  ?  Is  not  love  of  some  sort  stronger  than  strife  for 
any  enterprise  whatever?  In  education  would  not 
love  of  learning  be  a  deeper  inspiration  than  any 
artificial  stimulus  of  competition  ?  A  boy  can  leave 
school  with  an  armful  of  prizes  and  be  a  dullard  all 
his  life,  just  because  he  has  never  had  the  love 
of  learning  as  a  motive. 

Eor  the  highest  kind  of  work,  as  for  the  highest 
kind  of  life,  strife  and  vain-glory  are  not  helps  but 
hindrances.  They  ruin  the  quality  of  work.  This 
can  be  seen  in  its  deadliest  effects  in  all  forms  of 
art.  When  a  man  ceases  to  work  for  his  work's 
sake,  when  his  chief  object  is  to  surpass  his  fellows 
in  the  estimation  of  the  public,  he  lays  himself  open 
to  tlie  worst  of  all  temptations,  to  truckle  to  popular 
taste,  to  tricks  of  flashy  style;  and  his  work  of 
necessity  deteriorates.  How  can  even  his  hand  keep 
its  cunning,   when  his   heart  has  lost   the   vision? 


STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE  215 

The  ultimate  motive  to  a  true  artist  must  be  not 
money,  or  fame,  or  rivalry,  but  love,  love  of  art, 
love  of  beauty,  love  of  men,  and  whatever  higher 
love  than  these  is  possible.  Strife  and  vain-glory 
debase  art,  as  soon  as  they  are  permitted  to  come 
in.  And  if  we  are  to  judge  of  work  by  its  quality, 
will  not  some  of  our  modern  methods  of  competition 
be  condemned  at  once  ?  We  only  need  to  think  of 
the  old  hammer-wrought  ironwork,  the  old  stone- 
work of  house  and  church  lasting  through  the  centu- 
ries, the  old  beautiful  woodwork;  and  to  think  of  so 
much  of  our  modern  shoddy  work,  with  our  time- 
limits,  and  competitive  plans,  and  estimates,  to  feel 
how  much  love  went  to  the  one  sort  of  work,  and  how 
much  strife  or  vain-glory  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
other  sort. 

If  all  this  is  true  in  our  workaday  life,  how 
much  more  forcibly  does  it  come  home  to  us  in  our 
social  relations  with  other  men  ?  ^o  society  of  men 
can  be  kept  together  permanently  on  principles  of 
strife  and  vain-glory.  These  are  disintegrating  prin- 
ciples. If  such  alone  were  the  motives,  no  body  of 
men  could  live  together,  or  work  together,  or  even 
worship  together.  We  need  more  than  the  cash- 
nexus,  which  Carlyle  so  eloquently  condemned. 
You  cannot  keep  the  world  going  on  terms  of  cash 


216    STRIFE  VERSUS    LOVE 

merely.  Such  a  world,  if  possible,  would  not  be 
worth  kept  going.  You  cannot  resolve  all  human  re- 
lationships to  economic  principles  without  degrading 
human  life.  The  highest  motives  are  the  strongest 
motives ;  and  when  any  region  of  life  is  lived  on  the 
lower  plane,  sooner  or  later  it  brings  its  own  nemesis. 
What  period  of  history  was  more  humiliating  to 
England  than  that  part  of  the  eighteenth  century 
depicted  in  the  Letters  of  Junius  with  their  bitter 
satire,  when  corruption  was  prevalent  and  every  man 
seemed  to  have  his  price,  when  self-seekers  and  place- 
seekers  hustled  each  other  in  Parliament,  when 
Edmund  Burke  and  a  few  others  alone  stood  for 
political  principle,  for  duty  to  the  public,  and  even 
for  true  love  of  country?  Just  when  factious  strife 
and  selfish  ambition  and  vain-glory  were  at  their 
height,  Britain  was  far  on  the  down  grade.  The 
highest  motives  are  the  strongest  motives  in  every- 
thing. "Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain- 
glory." In  Church  and  State,  in  the  home  life  and 
the  business  life;  in  the  long  run  (and  often  it  is 
a  shorter  run  than  we  think)  these  motives  of  action 
will  be  discredited,  and  must  be  discarded — if  we  are 
to  live. 

What  then  is  the  alternative  ?    Over  against  these, 
St.  Paul  puts  the  humility  of  love,  "in  lowliness  of 


STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE  217 

mind,  let  each  esteem  other  better  than  himself." 
To  a  world  which  admires  above  everything  master- 
fulness, and  which  rewards  self-seeking,  this  must 
seem  a  feeble  alternative,  a  weak  and  ansemic  motive 
as  opposed  to  the  other  full-blooded  ones.  But  when, 
in  addition  to  the  acknowledged  failure  of  the  full- 
blooded  motives,  we  can  speak  of  the  success  of 
this  one,  the  case  becomes  not  so  hopeless  for  the 
feeble  humility.  Take  all  the  regions  in  which  we 
have  found  the  others  to  fail,  work,  art,  education, 
social  life,  and  we  will  see  how  penetrating  and  how 
potent  this  motive  is.  When  did  strife  produce  a 
picture  ?  When  did  vain-glory  make  a  scholar  ?  It  is 
a  commonplace  of  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  that 
humility  is  the  very  beginning  of  wisdom.  Only 
when  a  man  has  forgotten  self,  only  when  he  is  over- 
mastered by  a  larger  passion,  has  his  work  or  life 
become  great. 

Even  for  happiness,  strife  and  vanity  bring  nothing 
but  the  gnawing  of  the  worm,  the  serpent  of  envy 
which  only  stings  one's  own  self,  the  jaundiced 
eye  which  discolours  the  world  because  another  is 
preferred  before  oneself.  But  the  very  point  about 
this  Christian  humility  is  that  it  finds  its  joy  in  the 
things  which  in  the  other  case  bring  misery.  Every 
one  who  has  tried  it  knows  it  to  be  so.     "We  live  by 


218  STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE 

admiration,  hope,  and  love."  In  the  Christian  view 
of  life,  service  is  the  universal  rule,  and  each  has 
a  place  in  that  service.  All  gifts  are  held  for  the 
benefit  of  all.  Thej  are  no  credit  to  those  who 
have  them;  and  it  is  no  discredit  not  to  have  them. 
Special  capacity,  special  cleverness,  special  gifts  only 
mean  special  responsibility.  Excellence  is  to  be 
admired  and  loved,  not  envied  and  detracted.  If 
each  esteems  other  so,  would  not  the  stock  of  happi- 
ness be  increased  ?  I  may  have  as  much  pleasure 
from  a  sonata  on  the  organ,  or  a  song,  or  an  orches- 
tral symphony,  as  those  who  perform  and  have 
mastered  their  art,  though  I  could  no  more  do 
these  than  fly.  There  is  something  wrong  when 
men  are  filled  with  envy  at  superiority,  instead  of 
simply  doing  their  very  best  themselves,  and  humbly 
thanking  God  for  every  gift  He  has  given  the  world 
through  another.  "It  is  impossible  to  express,"  says 
Ruskin,  "the  quantity  of  delight  I  used  to  feel  in  the 
power  of  Turner  and  Tintoret  when  my  own  skill 
was  nascent  only;  and  all  good  artists  will  admit 
that  there  is  far  less  personal  pleasure  in  doing  a 
thing  beautifully  than  in  seeing  it  beautifully  done." 
Does  this  Christian  humility  seem  an  impossible 
alternative  to  strife  and  vain-glory  ?  Does  it  appear 
too  hard  for  the  weak  heart  of  man?     It  is  hard: 


STRIFE    VERSUS    LOVE  219 

but  it  is  not  hard  for  love.  So  to  esteem  others, 
so  to  subordinate  self  to  them,  so  to  recognise  the 
excellences  of  others,  can  only  be  the  fruit  of  love ; 
for  only  love's  eye  is  quick  to  find  out  the  lovely 
things  in  other  men.  St.  Paul  is  writing  to  Chris- 
tians, to  lovers  of  the  same  love,  and  in  all  this  he  is 
only  setting  forth  what  their  faith  means.  If  they 
are  to  be  Christ's,  they  must  have  Christ  formed  in 
them;  they  must  have  the  mind  of  Jesus  in  them; 
they  must  rule  their  lives  by  the  new  motive.  If 
they  love  their  Master  and  the  brethren,  if  they 
have  something  of  that  pitiful  love  of  men  which 
He  ever  showed,  this  humility,  and  this  service  of 
others,  will  come  easy  to  them.  And  that  way  lies 
peace,  and  true  heart's-ease :  that  way  lies  the  purest 
joy  in  all  human  excellence :  that  way  lies  the  pleas- 
ing of  God  and  spiritual  kinship  with  the  Lord 
Christ.  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain- 
glory ;  but  in  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other 
better  than  himself. 


XX 

A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

He  that  is  not  against  us  is  for  ns. — St.  Mark  ix.  40. 

In  connnction  with  this  we  immediately  think  of 
the  other  and  seemingly  opposite  saying  of  our  Lord, 
"He  that  is  not  for  Me  is  against  Me."  This  last 
saying  I  hope  to  treat  of  next  Sunday  by  itself;  but 
at  present  it  may  be  remarked  that  there  is  no  real 
contradiction  between  the  two.  The  two  truths  are 
complementary ;  they  are  different  sides  of  the  same 
idea,  and  are  each  true  according  to  circumstances. 
The  whole  question  of  the  relation  of  men  to  Jesus 
is  one  of  spiritual  sympathy,  and  even  a  little  sym- 
pathy to  the  extent  at  first  of  not  opposing  Him  is 
accepted  because  it  may  grow  more  and  more  to  the 
perfect  communion.  The  truth  of  the  statement, 
which  we  reserve  for  next  Sunday's  treatment,  that 
not  to  be  for  Christ  is  to  be  against  Him,  is  that 
there  can  be  no  permanent  neutrality  in  religion. 
The  truth  of  the  saying  which  we  take  as  our  text 
to-day  cannot  be  so  easily  put  into  a  single  sentence, 

230 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     221 

but  a  simple  illustration  will  show  how  the  two 
statements  can  be  true  at  one  and  the  same  time 
according  to  the  particular  point  of  view  of  each. 

At  the  time  when  l^apoleon  meditated  an  invasion 
of  Great  Britain  there  were  in  this  country  a  great 
number  of  people  who  sympathised  generally  with 
the  Erench  Revolution.  There  were  the  theorists 
who  looked  upon  it  as  a  signal  step  in  the  freedom 
of  man:  there  were  the  Chartists,  some  of  whom 
looked  for  reform  through  revolt.  Many  wished 
success  to  ISTapoleon  in  most  of  his  other  plans ;  but 
when  it  came  to  the  question  of  actual  invasion  of 
England,  love  of  country,  fear  of  foreign  aggression, 
and  other  motives  would  make  it  impossible  for 
almost  any  to  assist  l^apoleon's  plan  by  active  means. 
Imagine  him  by  some  chance  across  the  Channel 
beginning  the  conquest  of  England,  trying  to  create 
a  diversion  among  the  inhabitants,  and  learning  of 
the  latent  sympathy  of  some  to  the  Erench  Revolu- 
tion: imagine  him  issuing  a  Proclamation  to  keep 
as  many  as  possible  from  actively  opposing  him. 
The  burden  of  it  would  be  that  neutrality  was  all 
he  could  expect;  he  would  not  ask  tliat  men 
should  fight  against  their  country:  it  would  serve 
his  purpose  almost  as  well  to  keep  men's  hands  tied. 
He  might  well  think  that  he  that  was  not  against 


222     A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

him  was  for  him.  But  on  the  other  hand  the  British 
Government  had  the  right  to  ask  that  every  citizen 
should  sjjring  to  the  defence,  should  oppose  with 
united  ranks  and  to  the  last  extremity  the  invader. 
With  them  there  could  be  no  innocent  neutrality. 
!Not  to  be  for  them  would  be  to  be  against  them. 
It  would  be  virtual  alliance  with  the  foe.  It  would 
be  nothing  that  they  had  not  lifted  their  little  finger 
to  help  JSTapoleon,  and  that  they  had  preserved  an 
impartial  attitude.  From  the  point  of  view  of  the 
British  Government  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as 
an  impartial  attitude.  To  be  neutral  would  be  to 
be  a  traitor  to  their  country. 

N^ow  similarly,  it  was  true  of  part  of  Christ's 
work  that  he  who  was  not  against  Him  was  for  Him. 
As  a  reformer,  the  introducer  of  a  new  order,  from 
the  great  mass  of  people  He  did  not  expect  more  at 
first  than  that  they  should  give  Him  a  fair  field  and 
a  fair  trial.  All  who  did  not  oppose  Him,  who  gave 
Him  a  free  hand  in  His  work,  really  served  His  ends. 
They  had  enough  sympathy  with  His  objects  and 
His  teaching  not  rashly  to  counteract  them ;  and 
our  Lord  was  willing  to  take  that  sympathy  as  evi- 
dence that  they  were  for  Him.  Think  of  it  in 
connection  with  the  supposed  analogy  of  Napoleon 
in  Britain  and  you  will  see  that  such  an  attitude 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     223 

meant  a  great  deal.  JSTeutrality  was  something  to 
be  thankful  for.  There  is  even  still  a  sense  in  which 
onr  Lord  will  be  for  the  meantime  content  with 
even  such  little  sympathy  as  neutrality.  He  asks 
for  impartiality  from  every  human  soul.  He  asks 
each  to  consider  His  claims,  and  even  to  consider 
the  cost.  He  desires  decision,  but  not  blind  decision. 
He  will  have  no  recruits  by  false  pretences.  So 
spiritually,  to  give  Him  a  chance,  not  to  foreclose 
the  question,  not  to  shut  the  door  in  His  face,  not 
to  let  prejudices  darken  the  mind,  to  be  sympathetic- 
ally open  to  His  influence — that  negative  attitude 
is  in  some  stages  accepted.  Christ's  enemies  are 
the  men  who  put  themselves  outside  the  pale,  who 
will  not  listen,  will  not  inquire,  who  let  prejudice 
rule  them,  who  prejudge  the  case  as  it  were,  who 
commit  themselves  against  Him.  It  is  here  we  see 
the  truth  in  the  much-abused  phrase,  "honest  doubt." 
The  inquirer  after  truth,  the  sincere,  earnest,  humble 
seeker,  the  man  in  sympathy  with  spiritual  things 
who  would  fain  know  and  believe  and  love,  such  an 
one  is  not  cruelly  repelled  by  our  loving  Saviour. 
If  we  have  not  accepted  Him  as  Lord  and  Master, 
if  we  have  not  whole-heartedly  given  in  our  allegi- 
ance to  Him,  if  we  are  not  unreservedly  on  the 
Lord's  side,  if  we  have  held  back  our  hands  from 


S24    A   LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

His  work  and  our  feet  from  following  Him,  it  is  well 
to  make  sure  of  our  real  attitude  to  Him,  well  to  ask 
ourselves  whether  our  hesitation  has  been  due  to 
want  of  conviction  or  due  to  enmity  of  spirit.  And 
if  we  honestly  decide  that  it  is  not  for  want  of  sym- 
pathy, if  we  admit  the  attraction  He  has  for  us,  and 
can  justify  to  ourselves  our  balance  of  judgment,  it 
is  well  for  us  to  remember  that  neutrality  cannot 
last  for  ever,  that  soon  we  must  rank  ourselves 
definitely  on  one  side  or  other,  and  that  the  other 
truth  comes  in  that  He  who  is  not  for  Christ  is 
against  Him. 

But  this  saying  of  our  Lord's  was  not  intended  to 
show  the  place  of  neutrality  in  religion,  except  by 
the  way;  but  was  meant  as  a  lesson  in  charity  and 
tolerance  to  disciples;  and  so  we  pass  on  to  that. 
!N'otice  the  occasion  of  the  lesson.  A  man  who  did 
not  belong  to  the  recognised  company  of  disciples 
had  been  discovered  by  the  disciples  using  Christ's 
name  as  an  exorcism.  It  is  a  remarkable  evidence 
of  our  Lord's  influence  that  His  name  should  be 
thought  so  powerful.  We  know  nothing  further 
about  the  man,  whether  he  had  heard  Christ  speak 
and  teach  much,  whether  he  belonged  to  the  more 
or  less  attached  circle  outside  the  immediate  circle, 
or  whether  he  afterwards  became  a  follower.     We 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     225 

only  know  that  he  had  sufficient  faith  in  the  power 
of  Christ's  name  to  try  to  work  in  the  strength  of  it. 
John,  who  reports  the  incident  to  Jesus,  relates, 
"Master,  we  saw  one  casting  out  devils  in  Thy  name, 
and  he  f olloweth  not  us ;  and  we  forbade  him  because 
he  followeth  not  us."  But  Jesus  said,  Forbid  him 
not;  for  he  that  is  not  against  us  is  for  us.  It  is 
not  a  case  of  mere  neutrality ;  it  is  the  case  of  a  man 
who  was  sufficiently  convinced  that  he  appealed  to 
the  power  of  Jesus.  He  had  at  least  the  germ  of 
faith  in  Him.  But  because  he  was  not  one  of  their 
own  number  they  with  intolerant  zeal  sought  to 
silence  him.  And  the  Master  rebuked  them  and 
taught  them  a  great  lesson  in  tolerance.  This  man 
sought  to  do  good  in  Jesus'  name,  but  did  not  have 
the  regular  hall-mark  of  service,  did  not  have  what 
we  would  call  regular  ecclesiastical  sanction.  Christ 
teaches  His  disciples  that  His  work  cannot  be  limited 
by  any  rules  and  any  organisation.  Their  action 
had  been  prompted  by  purely  partisan  feeling. 
There  was  a  touch  of  wounded  dignity.  They 
forbade  him  because  he  followeth  not  us.  They  were 
favoured  and  set  apart,  and  they  thought  that  as 
they  had  so  much  privilege  they  should  have  all 
power;  and  were  a  little  offended  by  the  idea  that 
any  one  else  could  take  upon  himself  their  functions. 


226     A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

A  good  deal  of  past  and  present  intolerance  has 
the  same  earthly  root  of  wounded  dignity  and  per- 
sonal pique.  Men  so  easily  fall  into  the  mistake 
of  the  disciples  here  rebuked  by  Christ,  of  making 
visible  communion  with  them  the  test  of  communion 
with  Christ.  This  is  the  fruitful  source  of  all  the 
narrow  bigotry  and  intolerant  zeal  which  mar  the 
annals  of  history,  which  have  kindled  the  fire  and 
sharpened  the  sword,  which  have  substituted  the 
doctrine  of  the  stake  for  the  doctrine  of  the  cross. 
How  hard  it  has  been  even  for  Christ's  disciples  to 
learn  the  lesson  that  the  Spirit's  operations  cannot 
be  confined  to  any  organisation;  that  the  Gospel  of 
Christ  is  not  a  matter  of  orders,  of  canonical  succes- 
sion, of  any  formal  arrangement  or  external  organi- 
sation— it  is  spirit,  it  is  life.  The  Spirit's  way  is  the 
wind's  way,  blowing  where  it  listeth,  ordaining  its 
prophets  now  from  following  the  herds,  now  from 
the  steps  of  the  throne,  now  from  the  priesthood, 
now  from  the  market-place. 

To  speak  of  the  divine  right  of  a  form  of  Church 
government — Episcopacy  or  Presbytery  or  any  other 
— is  to  merit  the  Master's  rebuke  which  He  gave  to 
His  zealous  but  unenlightened  disciples.  To  confine 
the  free  grace  of  God  to  any  Church  channel  is  to 
sin   against  Christian  charity.      To   make   holiness 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     227 

dependent  on  entrance  into  any  community  of  be- 
lievers is  presumption.  To  declare  in  effect,  in  spite 
of  mean  little  qualifications  to  abate  the  appearance 
of  cruelty,  that  out  of  your  church  there  is  no  sal- 
vation, is  shocking  impiety.  To  forbid  in  the 
Master's  name  what  the  Master  declares  is  not  for- 
bidden, what  is  that  but  stiff-necked  disobedience? 
Could  we  tell  all  that  the  world  has  lost  by  the  sinful 
exclusiv^eness  of  the  Church;  could  we  tell  all  that 
the  Church  has  suffered  by  the  intolerance  and  big- 
otry and  narrow  ecclesiasticism  of  so  many  of  her 
supporters?  There  is  no  arrogance  so  hateful  as 
spiritual  arrogance,  which  would  not  only  enslave 
the  soul  of  man,  but  would  also  enchain  the  Spirit 
of  God.  And  when  we  think  of  His  whole  life  as 
well  as  this  judgment  of  His,  can  we  imagine  any- 
thing so  foreign  to  the  mind  of  Jesus  as  the  intoler- 
ance which  would  limit  spiritual  gifts  to  a  sect  ? 

Strange  though  it  appear,  it  is  really  in  essence  a 
form  of  materialism  to  which  the  heart  of  man  is 
prone,  limiting  the  spiritual  by  the  material.  The 
recrudescence  of  mediaeval  ideas  in  our  own  country, 
with  false  views  of  the  doctrine  of  grace,  warns  us 
against  imagining  that  our  Lord's  lesson  is  no  longer 
needed  by  us.  A  High-Churchism  which  practically 
excommunicates  all  who  do  not  belong  to  its  com- 


228     A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

munion,  is  compelled  to  have  a  grotesque  doctrine 
of  what  the  grace  of  God  is.  It  has  to  account  for 
the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  which  are  admittedly  seen 
elsewhere,  and  it  can  only  do  so  by  imagining  their 
Church  as  being  the  authorised  channel  of  grace, 
through  which  it  flows  as  a  river  flows  between  its 
banks,  but  here  and  there  a  little  grace  lips  over  and 
blesses  odd  people,  but  nobody  can  be  sure  of  re- 
ceiving grace  who  is  outside  of  that  particular 
Church.  I  have  seen  this  very  illustration  given  as 
an  explanation  of  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  being  seen 
among  outsiders. 

One  has  sympathy  with  the  difficulty  of  the  posi- 
tion. Of  course  if  only  the  authorised  disciples  were 
casting  out  devils  with  the  name  of  Christ  the  theory 
would  work  out  all  right.  If  grace  were  unknown 
outside  the  well-marked  channel,  all  would  be  plain 
sailing  with  this  Iligh-Church  theory.  But  there  is 
this  stubborn  fact  of  the  man  casting  out  devils  at 
the  name  of  Christ:  there  are  the  stubborn  facts  of 
the  Gospel  being  preached,  and  men  being  saved, 
and  the  peace  of  God  coming  over  broken  lives,  and 
the  love  of  God  illumining  darkened  hearts,  and  the 
fruits  of  the  Spirit  experienced,  love,  joy,  peace,  long- 
suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness, 
temperance.     And  yet  they  follow  not  us!     Shall 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     229 

we  forbid  them  in  the  interests  of  our  theory  of  the 
Church  ?  Forbid  the  wind  to  blow  where  it  listeth ; 
forbid  the  Spirit  of  God  to  claim  His  own ;  forbid  the 
Cross  of  Christ  to  draw  all  men  to  it ;  forbid  the  blood 
of  Christ  to  cleanse  the  hearts  of  sinners ;  forbid  the 
eternal  love  of  God  to  bring  men  into  the  fellowship 
of  sons  of  God !  Such  a  theory  may  seem  to  honour 
the  Church,  but  it  dishonours  the  Church's  Head. 

Some  try  to  account  for  the  facts  of  grace  outside 
their  special  Church  by  denying  the  facts.  It  is 
pitiful  to  see  a  man  like  Newman  trying  to  explain 
away  the  force  of  this  great  doctrine  of  tolerance 
which  Jesus  preached  (as  he  does  in  a  sermon  on 
this  passage).  He  does  so  by  first  of  all  suggest- 
ing that  the  good  done  outside  his  own  Church, 
which  was  then  the  Anglican,  is  more  apparent  than 
real.  "What  seems  good  is  often  not  good,"  he  says. 
He  hints  that  people  may  be  self-deceived,  and  that 
self-appointed  preachers  do  not  really  effect  spiritual 
results,  but  only  the  appearance  of  them.  And  then 
his  next  point  is  that  even  if  sinners  are  converted 
upon  such  a  one's  preaching,  the  credit  really  belongs 
to  the  Church  and  not  to  him.  It  is  "partly  in 
consequence  of  their  having  been  baptised,"  he 
declares.  To  such  straits  are  men  brought  who  try 
to  adjust  the  facts  to  suit  their  theory !    Alas  for  the 


230     A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE 

small-mindedness  and  the  lack  of  candour  which 
good  men  can  display  in  the  interests  of  a  narrowing 
dogma ! 

The  Bible  is  full  of  lessons  in  this  wide,  large  toler- 
ance, which  Jesus  preached  and  practised.  On  one 
occasion  unauthorised  prophecy  broke  out  in  the 
camp  of  Israel,  and  there  ran  a  young  man  and  told 
Moses,  and  said,  Eldad  and  Medad  do  prophesy  in 
the  camp.  And  Joshua  the  servant  of  Moses,  jealous 
of  the  honour  of  his  master,  said.  My  Lord  Moses, 
forbid  them.  This  was  Moses'  magnanimous  answer, 
Enviest  thou  for  my  sake  ?  Would  God  that  all  the 
Lord's  people  were  prophets,  and  that  the  Lord 
would  put  His  spirit  upon  them.  John  the  Baptist's 
disciples  came  to  him  complaining  that  Jesus  was 
drawing  away  all  the  people,  and  their  small  ecclesi- 
astical minds  expected  that  he  would  thunder  forth 
condemnation  and  warning  against  intrusion  in  their 
preserves.  John  answered,  "A  man  can  receive 
nothing  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven.  He 
must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease."  St.  Paul  in 
prison  heard  that  others,  even  enemies  of  his,  were 
preaching  Christ,  and  though  he  suspected  their 
motives  he  said,  "E"otwithstanding,  every  way, 
whether  in  pretence  or  in  truth,  Christ  is  preached, 
and  I  therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and  will  rejoice." 


A    LESSON    IN    TOLERANCE     231 

When  we  think  of  the  tolerance  of  God  with  all  of 
us,  His  patience,  His  longsuffering  with  our  slowness 
of  heart,  His  wide,  rich  mercy,  His  free  gospel  of 
grace,  how  miserable  are  the  petty  barriers  and  limits 
which  we  set  up,  how  sinful  is  our  arrogance  with 
which  we  unchurch  and  excommunicate  all  who  do 
not  see  eye  to  eye  with  us,  and  follow  not  us! 

It  is  the  mark  of  spiritual  insight  to  be  able  to 
recognize  goodness  everywhere,  and  assert  kinship 
with  it,  to  feel  in  sympathy  with  it,  to  accept  it,  and 
thank  God  for  it,  to  claim  fellowship  with  every 
good  man,  to  share  in  every  good  work,  however 
unauthorised  by  man,  if  only  it  have  the  stamp  of 
God's  approval.  Also,  it  is  the  highest  triumph  of 
grace  in  us  to  be  willing  even  to  be  set  aside,  to  see 
others  do  the  work  our  own  hands  long  to  do,  to  be 
willing  to  be  superseded,  to  rejoice  in  every  victory 
of  the  Cross  through  others,  to  stand  aside  and 
praise  God  for  every  evidence  of  His  power  and 
mercy  to  the  world  through  other  channels  than  our 
own,  to  tear  away  all  pride  and  prejudice  and  receive 
as  brethren  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity, 
to  comfort  ourselves  with  the  inspiring  thought  that 
He  has  so  many  instruments  beyond  our  narrow 
circle,  to  find  peace  and  joy  in  believing  that  he  who 
is  not  against  us  is  for  us. 


XXI 

THE    CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me. — St.  Matthew  xii.  30. 

Last  Sunday  in  dealing  with  our  Lord's  saying,  "He 
that  is  not  against  us  is  for  us,"  we  saw  among  other 
things  that  there  is  a  sense  in  which  men  are  justified 
in  adopting  towards  Jesus,  for  a  time  at  least,  an 
attitude  that  may  be  called  neutral.  Historically 
this  was  so ;  for  as  the  introducer  of  a  new  order,  with 
its  inevitable  criticism  of  existing  institutions  and 
thoughts  and  religion,  all  that  He  could  ask  from  the 
great  mass  of  men  was  that  they  should  not  condemn 
Him  unheard,  but  should  give  Him  a  fair  trial.  He 
could  only  expect  from  them  that  they  should  not 
prejudge  the  case,  and  foreclose  the  question  by 
unthinking  opposition.  All  who  were  impartial 
enough  to  give  Him  a  free  hand  in  His  work,  who 
did  not  take  up  a  side  against  Him,  were  for  the 
time  being  really  serving  His  ends.  Julius  Caesar 
when  he  set  himself  to  overturn  the  old  Roman 
Republic,  at  the  beginning  of  the  civil  war  took  up 

232 


CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH    233 

this  attitude  to  the  citizens  of  Rome.  He  knew  that 
custom,  tradition,  and  patriotism  would  make  it  hard 
for  some  of  them  to  take  up  arms  in  his  favour.  He 
declared  that  he  did  not  ask  for  that :  he  only  asked 
them  to  hold  their  hands,  l^ot  to  hinder  him  in  his 
project  of  revolution  was  to  help  him;  so  he  said. 
He  who  is  not  against  me  is  for  me.  He  was  grateful 
to  everybody  who  did  not  oppose  him.  Pompey  on 
the  other  hand,  who  was  the  leader  against  Caesar 
and  who  supported  the  old  Republican  form,  just 
as  naturally  took  up  the  contrary  attitude.  ISTot  to 
oppose  Cgesar  was  to  him  treason  against  the  State ; 
it  was  to  be  his  accomplice.  He  practically  said.  He 
who  is  not  for  me  is  against  me.  To  stay  in  Rome 
to  welcome  Caesar,  rather  than  to  go  with  Brutus  and 
other  patriots  to  Pompey's  camp,  was  virtual  accept- 
ance of  Caesar. 

So,  religiously  it  was  true  of  part  of  Christ's 
work  that  those  who  did  not  take  up  an  attitude 
of  opposition  to  Him  aided  Him.  l^eutrality  is 
not  the  right  word  to  use  to  express  the  position 
of  these  people.  ISJ'ot  to  be  committed  against 
Christ,  not  to  oppose  Him  as  a  foe,  meant  at  least 
some  sympathy  with  His  work,  and  some  faith  in 
His  motives  and  power.  The  men  who  were  not 
against  Him  were  in  sufficient  sympathy  with  Him 


234     CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

to  refuse  to  counteract  His  influence  till  He  had 
received  a  fair  chance.  The  Pharisees  were  against 
Christ;  their  minds  were  filled  with  prejudice;  they 
never  opened  their  hearts  to  Him ;  they  never  really 
listened  to  His  claims;  their  essential  spirit  was 
enmity  to  His.  But  there  were  many  who  felt 
the  spiritual  attraction  of  the  Master,  but  who  had 
not  knowledge  enough,  or  were  not  just  moved 
enough,  to  cast  in  their  whole  lot  with  Him,  but 
who  felt  He  was  a  man  of  God  and  did  not  want 
to  be  fighting  against  God,  and  so  would  not  rashly 
pronounce  against  Him;  and  for  the  time  our  Lord 
was  willing  to  take  even  that  amount  of  sympathy 
as  evidence  that  they  were  for  Him. 

There  is  a  sense  still  in  which  that  seemingly 
neutral  attitude  will  suffice.  It  cannot  be  the 
final  attitude,  but  our  Lord  will  accept  it  as  a 
stage  in  the  true  appreciation  of  Him.  All  through 
His  earthly  ministry  He  refused  to  take  rash  and 
reckless  decision.  He  turned  men  off  from  pre- 
cipitate discipleship.  He  asked  men  to  wait,  to 
consider,  to  count  the  cost.  He  put  before  them 
the  per  contra,  the  other  side  of  the  argument, 
that  none  might  become  a  recruit  of  His  on 
false  grounds.  Again  and  again  He  dissuaded 
followers    who    had    not    taken    time    to    consider. 


CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH    235 

His  plan  of  campaign  was  no  scheme  of  hasty  propa- 
gandism.  l^ever  did  leader  of  men  so  sift  his 
followers,  and  put  the  whole  case  before  them,  lest 
they  might  be  misled.  All  this  because  His  work 
was  spiritual.  He  sought  not  numbers,  but  hearts; 
and  if  men  felt  but  affinity  of  soul  with  Him  even 
to  the  extent  of  not  opposing  Him,  He  would  deal 
tenderly  with  them  till  sympathy  grew  into  love,  and 
attraction  became  passionate  conviction.  And  to-day 
the  same  is  true.  He  counts  no  sincere  inquiring 
soul  His  enemy.  They  are  not  against  Him  who 
tremble  to  His  touch,  who  long  to  know  and  believe 
and  love,  who  only  ask  to  be  convinced.  Those  who 
are  in  sympathy  with  spiritual  things,  who  have  not 
shut  the  door  in  Christ's  face,  who  will  not  commit 
themselves  as  among  His  foes,  those  who  are  not 
against  Him,  are  for  Him. 

If  we  look  below  the  surface  we  will  see  that 
the  other  saying  is  not  contradictory,  but  is  even 
just  an  extension  of  the  same  principle,  "He  that 
is  not  with  Me  is  against  Me."  It  means  that  all 
men  are  judged  by  their  personal  attitude  towards 
Christ.  The  whole  question  of  the  relation  of  men 
to  Christ  is  one  of  sympathy,  of  community  of 
spirit.  In  the  first  instance  it  is  not  a  question  of 
amount  but  of  quality.    The  sympathy  may  be  small, 


236    CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

because  it  has  not  enough  opportunity  or  knowledge ; 
but  if  it  is  there  at  all,  that  is  the  vital  point.  The 
Christian  faith  is  not  a  question  of  judgment  of 
intellect,  of  mental  assent  to  propositions,  not  the 
things  that  may  be  believed  about  Christ,  but 
affinity  of  spirit,  likeness  of  soul.  If  there  is  spiritual 
kinship  of  any  sort,  the  relationship  can  grow  till 
it  reaches  the  fullest  communion.  That  is  what 
determines  everything:  that  is  what  is  meant  by 
being  for  Christ,  and  not  being  against  Him.  He 
accepts  sympathy  to  the  extent  even  of  not  com- 
mitting yourself  against  Him ;  He  accepts  faith  small 
as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed.  It  is  not  the  final  stage, 
but  if  it  is  there  it  is  enough  to  go  on  with.  Light 
that  flickers  and  wanes  as  of  smoking  flax  He  will 
not  quench  but  will  nurse  till  it  dances  into  flame: 
life  feeble  as  a  new-born  babe,  so  it  be  life,  He  will 
accept. 

That  is  why  there  can  be  no  real  neutrality  in 
religion.  The  stage  we  have  spoken  of  as  if  it 
were  one  of  neutrality  is  really  one  of  inquiry,  of 
openness  to  light,  of  the  first  dawning  of  faith, 
the  first  leaning  towards  Christ;  and  even  that 
cannot  be  permanent.  From  that  there  must  be 
advance  or  retreat.  There  comes  a  time  when  you 
must  have    done   with   balance   of   judgment,    and 


CLEAVAGE    OP    THE    FAITH    237 

must  come  to  decision,  clear,  distinct;  and  then 
if  decision  is  refused  it  means  really  that  decision 
has  gone  against  Christ.  You  cannot  sit  on  the 
fence  for  ever;  and  even  if  you  could,  not  to  have 
come  down  on  Christ's  side  is  tantamount  to  being 
on  the  other  side.  One  says  in  effect.  Oh,  I  stand 
aside.  I  take  no  part.  I  am  not  called  on  to  decide 
one  way  or  the  other.  I  am  a  spectator  looking 
down  casually  at  the  great  struggle  in  the  arena.  It 
is  no  concern  of  mine.  I  neither  love  nor  hate. 
Like  the  haughty  soul  of  Tennyson's  Palace  of  Art 

I  take  possession  of  man's  mind  and  deed, 
I  care  not  what  the  sects  may  brawl. 
I  sit  as  God  holding  no  form  of  creed. 
But  contemplating  all. 

That  attitude  would  in  any  case,  even  if  it  were 
possible,  be  one  of  immeasurable  conceit — but  it  is 
not  possible. 

It  might  be  possible,  if  this  were  a  matter  of 
speculation  which  had  no  essential  relation  to  you. 
If  it  were  merely  a  body  of  opinions,  or  a  system  cf 
doctrine,  or  things  to  be  believed  or  to  be  doubted; 
then  you  might  sit  loosely  towards  it  all.  But  it  is 
your  life :  it  settles  the  man  you  are.  If  it  were  only 
your  opinion  of  Christ  that  was  at  stake  it  might 
not  matter  much  whether  you  had  any  opinion  or 


238    CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

not.  You  might  dismiss  it  as  indifferent.  If  it 
were  only  yon  that  were  judging  Christ;  but  it  is 
Christ  who  is  judging  you.  Simeon's  prophecy 
regarding  Him  to  His  mother  Mary  has  been  ful- 
filled, "Behold,  this  child  is  set  for  the  falling  and 
rising  of  many  in  Israel;  and  for  a  sign  that  is 
spoken  against,  that  thoughts  out  of  many  hearts 
may  be  revealed."  He  is  the  touchstone  by  which 
you  are  tested;  and  according  to  your  attitude  to 
Him  you  judge  and  condemn  yourself.  That  is  why 
no  neutrality  is  possible,  and  why  you  cannot  hold 
aloof  even  if  you  would,  and  why  in  the  ultimate 
issue  you  must  be  one  thing  or  another  to  Him. 
He  divides  the  world.  He  comes  to  separate,  as  He 
Himself  declared,  brother  from  brother,  sister  from 
sister.  'Not  peace — you  thought  He  came  to  bring 
peace — not  peace  but  a  sword. 

Every  spiritual  capacity  divides  men,  not  arbi- 
trarily, but  essentially.  A  great  violinist  once 
divided  the  world  into  two  classes,  those  who  play  the 
fiddle  and  those  who  don't.  The  principle  of  selec- 
tion is  always  along  the  line  of  fitness.  The  violinist 
was  right.  The  world  is  divided  musically,  if  not  by 
the  narrow  test  of  a  fiddle,  yet  by  the  principle 
of  knowledge  or  appreciation  of  music.  Musically 
the  judgment  is  not  arbitrary,  but  essential.     Spirit- 


CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH    239 

11  al  selection  acts  automatically  in  the  same  way. 
Fitness  for  Christ's  Kingdom  is  the  condition;  and 
fitness  is  determined  by  relationship  to  Jesus.  It  is 
no  hard  and  cruel  and  arbitrary  judgment,  but  the 
sentence  of  fact,  declaring  men  and  things  to  be  just 
what  they  actually  are.  There  is  an  old  Jewish 
tradition  that  the  manna  which  fed  the  Israelites  in 
the  desert  had  not  one  uniform  taste,  but  tasted 
according  to  each  man's  mouth.  We,  dilettante 
tasters  of  thing  spiritual,  think  we  are  judging 
the  taste  of  the  manna;  the  manna  is  judging  us 
by  the  taste.  You  think  you  are  estimating  truth; 
truth  is  estimating  you.  You  think  you  are  balanc- 
ing and  weighing,  and  valuing  with  nice  discrimina- 
tion the  Kingdom  of  God ;  the  Kingdom  is  weighing 
and  valuing  3^ou.  You  think  you  are  assessing 
religion  and  giving  it  its  place;  religion  is  putting 
you  in  your  own  place.  You  think  you  are  judg- 
ing Christ;  Christ  is  judging  you.  He  sifts  you 
as  wheat  is  sifted  from  chaff.  As  iron  leaps  to  the 
magnet;  so  some  souls  leap  to  His  embrace.  He 
winnows  the  hearts  of  men.  You  cannot  be  in- 
different. Even  when  you  think  you  are  indifferent 
and  are  neutral,  by  the  very  fact  you  have  made 
decision.  Some  things  you  reject  merely  by  neg- 
lecting. 


240     CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

Realise  what  Christianity  is  and  you  will  see  that 
not  to  be  for  Christ  is  to  be  against  Him.  It  is  not  a 
balance  of  judgment,  but  an  attitude  of  soul.  Chris- 
tianity is  a  matter  of  holy  affections,  not  a  matter  of 
dogma  and  articles  of  creed.  These  afterwards,  but 
not  in  the  first  and  the  ultimate  issue.  You  only 
live  as  you  love — what  is  your  love?  Your  love 
tests  you,  separates  you,  classifies  you.  There  are 
but  two  Kingdoms,  to  one  of  which  you  belong ;  two 
Empires  of  the  human  heart.  Cleared  from  all  false 
issues  there  are  only  two  rival  kinds  of  life,  the  self- 
centred  life,  or  the  God-centred  life.  You  cannot 
belong  to  both  categories:  they  are  mutually  ex- 
clusive. Our  Lord  stated  this  in  His  strong  asser- 
tion, "Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon."  In  the 
straits  of  the  fight  you  cannot  stand  out  as  a 
spectator.  You  cannot  be  both  friend  and  foe,  ally 
and  enemy  at  the  same  time ;  and  to  refuse  to  take 
your  place  is  to  let  judgment  go  against  you  by 
default.  To  refuse  to  go  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty  is  to  be  an  accomplice  against 
the  Lord.  Your  affectation  of  indifference  is  virtual 
decision.  IsTeutrality  is  impossible.  You  must  see 
and  admit  the  force  and  truth  of  Christ's  statement, 
"He  that  is  not  with  Me  is  against  Me." 

The   truth   is   that   the   neutrality   so   commonly 


CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH     241 

affected  is  merely  another  name  for  indifference. 
We  think  it  prudence  not  to  commit  ourselves  on 
one  side  or  another,  and  we  think  it  a  sign  of  a  wise 
tolerance  to  keep  our  minds  open  and  hear  all  sides 
and  accept  no  conclusion.  But  the  reason  is  that 
we  do  not  understand  the  importance  of  the  issue. 
We  do  not  care  sufficiently,  and  so  see  no  need  for 
decision.  We  are  so  content  with  the  world  and 
with  the  life  of  sense,  that  the  life  of  the  spirit  is 
killed  within  us.  We  do  not  reject  Christ — we 
simply  pass  Him  by.  We  are  not  against  Christ — 
we  simply  are  not  for  Him.  This  is  our  condemna- 
tion that  in  the  blindness  of  our  souls  we  do  not  see 
the  difference  between  light  and  darkness.  Our 
supposed  neutrality  is  an  insult. 

It  seems  to  be  a  mark  of  our  age  to  look  upon  all 
things  as  equally  unimportant,  to  look  upon  the 
world  as  a  dull  leaden  grey,  with  no  light  and  shade, 
but  only  a  dim  twilight.  We  seem  to  be  in  a  period 
of  indifference,  in  politics  and  literature  and  religion, 
and  all  the  things  about  which  men  used  to  feel 
intensely.  Enthusiasm  one  way  or  the  other  seems 
a  lost  art;  passion  seems  dead;  and  the  ideal  with 
many  seems  to  be  a  languid  tolerance  which  plays 
with  great  realities,  and  which  will  neither  assert  nor 
deny.     There  is  ardour  enough  for  all  the  things 


242     CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH 

which  have  an  earthly  basis,  for  money  and  pleas- 
ure; but  in  the  region  of  thought  and  political 
principle  and  religious  belief,  zeal  is  at  a  discount. 
In  the  great  warfare  of  the  ages  we  want  to  be  both 
for  and  against;  or  neither  for  nor  against.  We  try 
to  ignore  it.  We  are  experts  in  balancing  ourselves 
on  the  fence.  Men  do  not  seem  to  have  enough 
faith  even  to  be  unbelievers. 

A  lower  depth  than  blatant  unfaith  is  the  moral 
apathy,  the  spiritual  unconcern  that  makes  light  of 
distinctions.  It  takes  at  least  some  faith  to  deny; 
for  it  means  that  it  is  thought  worth  denying.  I 
would  ye  were  either  hot  or  cold.  Better  the  in- 
tellectual heresies  of  past  days  than  the  inappetency 
of  thought  which  seems  to  have  lost  the  sense  of 
taste.  Better  the  fierce  sun  and  the  black  shadow 
than  the  universal  mist  that  makes  the  world  a  blur. 
Better  the  days  of  what  we  called  dogmatic  atheism 
than  the  torpor  of  moral  insensibility.  Better  pas- 
sionate denial  than  the  death  in  life  which  thinks 
that  nothing  is  worth  living  for  and  fighting  for 
and,  if  need  be,  dying  for.  For  God's  sake  give  up 
your  affectation  of  languid  indifference.  Protest, 
assert,  deny,  anything  but  the  cold-blooded  assump- 
tion that  nothing  matters.  For  it  does  matter. 
Whether  you  will  or  no  you  are  compelled  to  take 


CLEAVAGE    OF    THE    FAITH    243 

a  part.  The  danger  of  the  indifference  about  which 
we  speak  as  opposed  to  frank  enmity  of  Christ  is 
that  we  so  easily  miss  the  fact  that  we  have  taken 
sides,  that  in  spite  of  our  supposed  indecision  we 
have  really  decided.  Between  the  Christ-life  and 
the  world-life  there  can  be  no  compromise.  The 
word  to  express  our  position  is  not  both  nor  neither, 
but  either  .  .  .  or. 

In  the  long  run  it  must  be  attraction  or  aversion 
of  spirit ;  love  or  hate.  The  Lord  Christ  tracks  you 
to  your  hiding-place  and  reveals  you  to  yourself, 
tearing  away  all  disguises  and  showing  you  what 
you  are.  Bring  your  attitude  towards  Him  this  day 
to  the  light,  and  make  sure  to  yourself  how  you 
stand  regarding  Him  and  His  claims  over  you. 
Make  your  decision  openly.  Assert  to  yourself  what 
your  attitude  really  is.  You  must  be  with  Him  or 
against  Him.  If  you  are  not  with  Him  you  are 
against  Him.  If  you  have  nothing  in  common  with 
Him,  no  spiritual  affinity,  no  sympathy  with  His 
thoughts  and  objects,  the  first  gleam  of  hope  is  that 
you  should  know  the  facts. 

To  be  against  Christ — to  have  Christ  against  you ! 
To  hate  Jesus — to  suffer  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb! 
It  is  hard  for  thee,  O  human  soul,  to  kick  against 
the  goads. 


XXII 

THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

/  will  make  a  man  more  precious  than  fine  gold  ;  even  a  man 
than  the  golden  wedge  of  Ophir. — Isaiah  xiii.  12. 

(Behold  I  will  stir  up  the  Medes  against  them,  which  sJmll  not  re- 
gard silver  ;  and  as  for  gold,  tliey  shall  not  delight  in  it. — Verse  17.) 

In  the  Old  Testament  Babylon  more  than  any  other 
city  stood  for  the  personification  of  the  forces  of 
the  world  against  God.  In  the  history  of  Israel 
Babylon  was  the  scourge  of  God  to  them.  They 
were  as  grain  under  the  teeth  of  the  threshing 
machine.  In  the  captivity  the  Jews  felt  the  weight 
of  Babylon's  cruelty,  so  that  in  the  prophetic  litera- 
ture of  the  exile  Babylon  became  the  type  of  oppres- 
sion, and  of  the  insolence  of  material  force.  The 
thought  is  carried  back  to  primitive  times  in  the 
Book  of  Genesis  in  the  story  of  the  building  of  Babel 
pictured  as  the  vain  and  arrogant  attempt  of  men 
to  rival  God.  "Go  to,  let  us  build  us  a  city  and  a 
tower,  whose  top  may  reach  to  heaven,  and  let  us 
make  us  a  name." 

So  deep  had  the  experience  of  Babylon's  cruel 
244 


THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS     245 

might  entered  into  the  heart  of  Israel,  that  St.  John 
in  the  Revelation  uses  the  word  to  describe  the 
imperial  power  of  Rome  as  it  menaced  the  early 
feeble  Christian  faith.  He  could  not  get  a  better 
word  than  Babylon  to  represent  the  overwhelming 
force  of  the  great  Roman  Empire,  with  its  legions  of 
soldiers,  with  its  policy  which  made  the  whole  world 
a  network  of  nerves  running  back  to  their  sensitive 
centre  in  the  haughty  city  on  the  Tiber.  There 
was  the  same  astounding  development  of  material 
civilisation,  the  same  vanity  of  wealth,  the  same 
faith  in  big  battalions,  the  same  commercial  pros- 
perity, the  same  disdainful  pride,  as  the  prophet 
describes  about  Babylon,  St.  John  saw  past  the 
glitter  of  conquest  and  the  pageant  of  power,  and 
recognised  in  pagan  Rome  the  old  Babylon  which 
lifts  her  impious  head  against  God.  To  him  she 
was  the  scarlet  woman  drunken  with  the  blood  of 
the  saints.  He  heard  her  say  in  the  pride  and 
atheism  of  her  heart,  as  the  prophet  heard  Babylon 
say,  "I  sit  as  queen,  and  am  no  widow,  and  shall  see 
no  sorrow."  The  name  Babylon  came  to  take  on 
the  religious  significance  of  the  spirit  of  the  world 
with  the  dead  weight  of  the  material  which  resists 
the  spiritual.  Over  against  the  fair  vision  of  the 
city  of  God  is  arrayed  the  reign  of  force,  also  pictured 


246     THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

as  a  city,  insolent  in  her  pride,  impious  in  her 
fancied  security,  cruel  in  her  sense  of  power,  smiting 
the  world  with  mailed  fist,  lifting  her  haughty 
head  against  God  and  her  blood-stained  hand  against 
His  saints. 

The  prophet,  who  judges  not  by  the  appearance  of 
things,  pronounces  doom  upon  the  bloated  empire 
which  seemed  to  stand  so  secure.  He  notes  the 
evidences  of  weakness  and  the  signs  of  ruin,  in  spite 
of  the  apparent  prosperity.  The  careless  trust  in 
material  resources,  the  insolence  of  rule,  the  dis- 
regard of  human  rights  and  human  lives,  the  lusts 
and  selfishness  and  pride  of  life,  the  impious  atheism 
which  disregarded  God,  these  would  all  exact  their 
inevitable  price.  Cruelty  and  oppression  would 
react  on  the  tyrant  after  their  usual  historic  fashion. 
The  huge  treasures  and  boundless  wealth  on  which 
they  rested  would  only  attract  enemies.  The  crowds 
of  slaves,  and  discontented  subject  races  and  the 
sullen  populace  would  weaken  her  hand  in  the  hour 
of  trial,  and  make  her  in  spite  of  her  wealth  an  easy 
prey  to  the  spoiler.  The  arrogant  self-reliance  which 
seemed  such  a  strength  was  but  an  evidence  of 
weakness. 

Babylon  trusted  to  her  immense  wealth,  by  which 
she  could  bribe  enemies  and  buy  mercenaries  and 


THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS     247 

generally  provide  what  is  called  the  sinews  of  war. 
In  discussing  this  point  in  his  Essay  on  the  Great- 
ness of  Kingdoms  Bacon  with  his  keen  judgment 
says,  "Neither  is  money  the  sinews  of  war  (as  it  is 
trivially  said),  where  the  sinews  of  men's  arms,  in 
base  and  effeminate  people,  are  failing,"  What  can 
Babylon  do  in  a  case  like  this,  "Behold  I  will  stir  up 
the  Modes  against  them,  which  shall  not  regard 
silver ;  and  as  for  gold  they  shall  not  delight  in  it"  ? 
These  hordes  from  the  mountains  were  not  to  be 
bribed  or  bought  over,  any  more  than  the  Goths 
when  they  overran  the  Boman  Empire.  The  true 
wealth  of  a  nation  is  not  to  be  gauged  always  by  the 
state  of  the  exchequer.  To  Babylon  would  come  a 
time  when  there  would  be  more  money  than  men. 
It  is  a  picture  of  absolute  ruin,  when  the  great  city 
would  be  depopulated.  "I  will  make  a  man  more 
precious  (more  rare)  than  fine  gold;  even  a  man 
than  pure  gold  of  Ophir." 

Our  Christian  civilisation  has  no  place  in  it  for 
some  of  the  wrongs  of  men  and  women  common  in 
the  pagan  world.  We  have  for  one  thing  been 
taught  at  least  something  of  the  sacredness  of  human 
life.  There  is  a  public  conscience  which  would  pre- 
vent some  of  the  hideous  evils  of  ancient  Babylon  or 
Rome.     Our  government  and  our  commerce  have 


248    THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

been  christianised  to  a  very  large  extent.  But  the 
Babylonian  spirit  has  not  left  the  world;  and  every 
great  civilisation  is  menaced  by  the  temptation  of 
forgetfiilness  of  God,  cruelty  of  sheer  force,  insolence 
of  pride,  empty  trust  of  wealth.  Our  foes  are  the 
old  foes  with  a  new  face.  Every  empire  is  dogged 
by  the  same  temptation  to  rely  wholly  on  material 
strength,  and  to  add  arrogance  of  mind  to  luxury  of 
life.  ]^ot  once  or  twice  have  the  resources  of 
civilisation  proved  helpless,  when  the  morale  of  a 
people  has  crumbled  down.  Not  once  or  twice 
in  history  has  it  been  seen  that  the  last  line  of 
defence  has  been  not  material  but  moral.  Not  once 
or  twice  has  the  world  witnessed  the  strongest 
nations  rotting  to  their  doom,  when  the  moral  laws 
of  life  were  disregarded,  such  as  the  purity  of  the 
family  and  the  purity  of  justice,  when  wealth  ac- 
cumulated, and  self-indulgence  became  the  ideal. 
It  is  the  lesson  of  history,  so  plain  that  a  wayfaring 
man  though  a  fool  should  hardly  err. 

Yet  how  easily  we  do  err  here,  and  think  that 
if  we  only  develop  our  material  resources  further, 
and  make  still  further  discoveries  in  applying  natural 
forces,  we  can  rampart  ourselves  against  destiny. 
This  pitifully  common  mistake  could  not  escape  an 
observer  and  thinker  like  Bacon.     He  says,  "There 


THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS     249 

is  not  anything  amongst  civil  affairs  more  subject  to 
error  than  the  right  valuation  and  true  judgment 
concerning  the  power  and  forces  of  a  State.  .  .  . 
Walled  towns,  stored  arsenalls  and  armouries,  goodly 
races  of  horses,  chariots  of  war,  elei)hants,  ordinance, 
artillery,  and  the  like:  all  this  is  but  a  sheep  in  a 
lion's  skin,  except  the  breed  and  disposition  of  the 
people  be  stout  and  warlike.  Nay,  number  itself  in 
armies  importeth  not  much,  where  the  people  is  of 
weak  courage;  for  as  Virgil  saith.  It  never  troubles 
a  wolf,  how  many  the  sheep  be."  In  the  last  resort 
it  is  not  the  money  that  counts  but  the  men,  not 
the  armouries  but  the  breed  and  disposition  of  the 
people.  And  that  ultimately  depends  on  moral  and 
religious  qualities.  In  the  last  resort  a  country  falls 
back  upon  the  soundness  of  heart  and  cleanness  of 
blood  of  its  sons  and  daughters,  ■  upon  fortitude  and 
courage  and  faith  and  sacrifice  and  love.  If  it  fails 
there,  with  even  a  glut  of  gold  in  the  markets,  the 
word  may  be  literally  fulfilled,  "I  will  make  a  man 
more  rare  than  gold,  even  a  man  than  pure  gold  of 
Ophir." 

We  are  thus  led  by  a  natural  transition  from  the 
first  meaning  of  our  text,  which  speaks  of  the  judg- 
ment of  Babylon,  which  shall  be  so  depopulated  that 
men  because  of  their  fewness  will  be  more  precious 


250     THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

than  gold — we  are  led  to  this  principle  which  is  at 
the  bottom  of  the  judgment,  that  in  the  true  estimate 
of  a  people  the  men  are  more  precious  than  the  gold, 
the  type  and  breed  and  character  of  the  manhood 
are  of  more  importance  than  the  material  resources. 
The  end  of  civilisation  is  not  money  but  men.  The 
true  wealth  of  a  nation  is  a  moral  value.  The  true 
history  of  man  is  the  history  of  his  conscience,  the 
history  of  his  moral  development ;  for  only  that  can 
give  permanence  and  security  even  to  all  his  other 
achievements  in  science  or  art  or  invention  or 
thought.  The  true  resources  of  civilisation  are 
human,  not  material. 

When  the  alternatives  are  put  before  us  in  this 
strong  contrast,  we  will  assent  to  the  proposition; 
we  will  feet  a  thrill  of  agreement  at  such  a  graphic 
incident  as  the  wager  described  in  the  Legend  of 
Montrose.  A  Highland  chieftain  on  a  visit  to  Eng- 
land was  taunted  on  the  poverty  of  his  country  at 
the  table  of  his  host,  the  occasion  being  when  the 
large  silver  candlesticks  were  lighted.  In  a  burst 
of  misguided  patriotism  he  declared  that  he  had 
more  and  better  candlesticks  in  his  own  castle  at 
home  than  were  ever  lighted  in  a  hall  in  England. 
A  wager  was  offered  and  he  felt  he  could  not  draw 
back.     When  his  English  friends  visited  the  north 


THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS     251 

to  join  Montrose's  venture  for  Prince  Charles,  they 
demanded  the  wager  to  be  put  to  the  test.  The  laird's 
brother  placed  behind  every  seat  at  the  dining-table 
a  gigantic  Highlander,  holding  in  his  right  hand 
a  drawn  sword,  and  in  the  left  a  blazing  torch  made 
of  the  bog-pine.  Ere  the  strangers  recovered  from 
their  surprise,  he  said,  pointing  to  the  torch-bearers, 
"Behold  the  chandeliers  of  my  brother's  house !  not 
one  of  these  men  knows  any  law  but  their  Chief's 
command.  Would  you  dare  to  compare  to  them  in 
value  the  richest  ore  that  ever  was  dug  out  of  mines  ? 
How  say  you,  cavaliers  ? — is  your  wager  won  or  lost  ?" 
With  a  graphic  statement  of  the  alternatives  like 
this  we  assent  that  a  man  is  more  precious  than  fine 
gold.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  in  national  policy  is 
not  our  practice  exactly  the  opposite  ?  Do  we  not 
count  our  wealth  by  trade  returns,  and  imports  and 
exports,  and  balance-sheets  ?  Do  we  ever  dream 
that  there  is  another  standard  of  both  personal  and 
national  wealth  in  the  quality  of  life  produced  ?  In 
a  prospectus  of  any  enterprise  do  we  not  judge  it  by 
commercial  tests  alone,  heedless  of  what  it  means  in 
its  effects  on  human  life  ?  We  call  a  country  rich, 
when  it  can  stand  the  test  of  any  material  standard. 
But  in  the  final  judgment  these  will  have  no  place, 
and  an  altogether  different  test  must  be  applied. 


252    THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

To  say  this  is  no  foolish  contempt  of  money,  and 
tlie  power  it  gives  to  a  man  or  a  nation.  It  is  only 
to  state  the  fact  that  in  the  long  run,  in  the  case  of 
the  individual  and  the  nation  alike,  a  man  is  more 
precious  than  fine  gold,  even  a  man  than  the  golden 
wedge  of  Ophir.  We  cannot  be  too  often  reminded 
that  all  life  must  be  judged  not  by  its  possessions 
but  by  itself.  It  cannot  be  too  often  asserted  that 
the  life  of  a  man  or  a  nation  consisteth  not  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  it  possesseth.  Can  a  country 
be  truly  called  rich  so  long  as  human  life  is  still  so 
cheap  as  it  is,  so  long  as  there  are  such  plague-spots 
in  our  cities,  so  long  as  amid  all  the  treasures  of 
commerce  and  art  there  still  exist  such  crowds  of 
our  fellows  in  squalor  and  sordidness,  dwarfed  in 
body  and  mind,  with  no  spiritual  horizon  broader 
than  the  beasts  that  perish  ?  If  the  end  of  civilisa- 
tion is  not  money  but  men,  then  though  a  nation's 
ships  are  in  every  sea  and  its  commerce  in  every 
market,  and  its  soldiers  ever  pushing  back  the 
frontier  of  empire,  if  it  is  not  developing  a  liigher  and 
nobler  type  of  citizen,  in  Bacon's  phrase  a  stouter 
breed  and  disposition  of  the  people,  its  civilisation  is 
a  dismal  failure.  There  may  be  as  in  the  Burden  of 
Babylon  a  glut  of  gold  and  a  poverty  of  men — pov- 
erty in  all  that  makes  men  men. 


THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS    253 

John  Ruskin,  with  some  of  the  passion  and  power 
of  a  prophet,  never  wearied  of  insisting  on  the  dis- 
tinction we  have  been  enforcing.  This  distinction 
between  money  and  men  is  at  the  root  of  all  his 
economic  writings.  He  has  been  reviled  as  an 
obscurantist,  as  protesting  against  machinery  and 
railways  and  the  great  industrial  enterprises  of  our 
age.  This  is  the  misunderstanding  of  unthinking 
and  casual  readers.  The  basis  of  his  protest  is  a 
protest  against  the  prevailing  materialistic  creed,  as 
if  last  century  had  found  redemption,  or  could  find 
it,  through  scientific  discoveries  alone,  through 
engineering  triumphs,  and  electrical  appliances.  He 
lived  and  died  protesting  that  a  man  is  more 
precious  than  fine  gold.  "It  may  be  discovered 
that  the  true  veins  of  wealth  are  purple — and  not 
in  Eock,  but  in  Flesh — perhaps  even  that  the  final 
outcome  and  consummation  of  all  wealth  is  in  the 
producing  as  many  as  possible  full-breathed,  bright- 
eyed,  and  happy-hearted  human  creatures.  ...  In 
some  far-away  and  yet  undreamt-of  hour,  I  can 
even  imagine  that  England  may  cast  all  thoughts 
of  possessive  wealth  back  to  the  barbaric  nations 
among  whom  they  first  arose;  and  that,  while  the 
sands  of  the  Indus  and  adamant  of  Golconda  may 
yet  stifi'en  the  housings  of  the  charger,   and  flash 


254    THE    WEALTH    OF    NATIONS 

from  the  turban  of  the  slave,  she,  as  a  Christian 
mother,  may  at  last  attain  to  the  virtues  and  the 
treasures  of  a  Heathen  one,  and  be  able  to  lead 
forth  her  Sons,  saying  These  are  my  Jewels." 

If  we  are  to  be  saved  from  the  doom  of  old 
Babylon,  we  must  have  our  citizenship  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  We  must  make  Jesus  King. 
We  must  decide  and  judge  and  act  according  to 
His  mind.  We  must  learn  from  Him  the  priceless 
worth  of  a  single  human  life.  We  must  see  in 
ourselves,  and  in  others,  the  image  of  God,  despoiled 
and  defaced,  but  still  enough  to  show  that  we  were 
born  for  the  love  of  God.  We  must  see  the  sacred- 
ness  of  soul,  and  in  every  conflict  take  the  side  of 
soul  against  sense.  We  must  serve  our  generation 
by  the  will  of  God.  We  must  bend  to  the  yoke 
of  Christ.  We  must  be  rich  towards  God  at  all 
costs,  whatever  else.  We  must  see  the  spiritual 
values  of  life,  and  in  all  decisions  choose  the  better 
part.  We  must  have  our  lives  inspired  by  the 
gracious  pity  and  tender  love  of  our  Master.  And 
the  word  of  the  prophet  can  be  fulfilled  in  another 
sense  than  in  the  doom  of  Babylon,  ''I  will  make 
a  man  more  precious  than  fine  gold,  even  a  man 
than  pure  gold  of  Ophir." 


XXIII 

SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

And  he  looked  this  way  and  that  way,  and  when  he  saw  that  there 
was  no  man,  he  slew  the  Egyptian,  and  hid  him  in  the  sand. — 
Exodus  ii.  12. 

In  this  incident  of  Moses'  career  we  have  the  first 
dawning  of  a  great  resolve.  As  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, it  was  imperfect,  hesitating.  It  was  the  fruit 
of  impulse,  rather  than  of  principle,  and  so  it  lacked 
the  masterly  decision  of  a  plan  long  thought  out. 
It  is  a  dramatic  situation  which  the  story  reveals — 
a  boy  brought  up  out  of  his  natural  sphere  among 
the  ruling  race,  discovering  himself  akin  to  the 
down-trodden,  oppressed  slave  population.  How  he 
made  the  discovery  we  do  not  know,  but  he  was 
bound  sooner  or  later  to  make  it,  if  not  from  friend, 
then  from  any  jealous,  envious  enemy.  Thoughtful, 
observant,  of  noble  make  of  mind  and  heart,  he  must 
have  had  many  troubled  hours.  He  would  feel 
himself  belonging  completely  to  neither  of  the  two 
classes.  Drawn  by  training  and  education  to  the 
dominant  Egyptians,  drawn  by  sympathy  and  blood- 

255 


266  SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

tie  to  the  lower  race,  he  came  to  feel  himself  an 
alien  in  the  palace  of  the  Pharaoh,  and  had  also  to 
learn  that  he  was  an  alien  from  his  brethren  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh.  Imagine  an  Armenian  child 
brought  up  in  the  palace  of  the  Sultan,  coming  to 
full  consciousness  of  life  at  the  time  of  the  terrible 
massacres,  and  we  would  get  something  like  an 
historical  parallel  to  the  situation.  All  that  was 
best  in  Moses  would  plead  for  giving  his  life  some- 
how in  the  service  of  his  kinsfolk;  but  much  that 
could  not  be  called  quite  ignoble  would  pull  him  to 
the  other  side. 

When  at  last  he  made  the  plunge  which  settled 
his  future  life,  it  was  done  undesignedly,  and  not 
even  from  the  highest  motives.  It  is  a  stage  in  the 
education  of  a  great  soul,  and  it  is  instructive  to  see 
how  in  the  providence  of  God  a  servant  of  His  was 
led  through  his  very  mistake  to  become  worthy  for 
the  highest  service.  For  mistake  this  first  interposi- 
tion of  Moses  was,  only  redeemed  from  sordidness 
by  its  generosity.  Tossed  about  for  many  days  on 
the  dilemma  we  have  described,  tempted  by  the 
thought  of  a  great  career  somewhere  among  the 
Egyptians,  drawn  by  the  mysterious  bond  of  blood 
to  the  outcast  Hebrews,  he  would  be  often  in  a  mood 
to   let  his   destiny   be   settled   by   a   chance.      The 


SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE  257 

chance  came,  when  one  day  he  spied  an  Egyptian 
smiting  an  Hebrew,  one  of  his  brethren;  and  in  a 
moment  the  die  was  cast;  he  took  the  Hebrew's 
side,  and  slew  the  oppressor.  I  have  said  that  this 
act  was  not  done  from  the  highest  motives.  It  could 
not  have  been,  because  for  one  thing  it  was  not  a 
religious  motive.  At  this  time  Moses  could  not  be 
said  to  be  religious  except  in  some  external  way. 
It  was  not  till  afterwards  in  the  desert  that  he  came 
to  know  God,  and  give  up  heart  and  life  to  Him. 
It  was  an  act  of  passion,  in  spite  of  its  generosity  in 
taking  the  weaker  side.  It  was  the  fruit  of  senti- 
ment rather  than  principle,  more  of  a  youthful 
escapade  with  a  touch  of  bravado  in  it,  than  anything 
else.  This  is  not  to  say  that  Moses  may  not  have 
thought  the  whole  situation  out,  and  have  felt  that 
he  must  somehow  cast  in  his  lot  with  his  brethren. 
That  is  almost  certain,  but  in  the  occasion  chosen 
he  was  hurried  into  decision.  Indeed  it  was  not 
decision  at  all;  for  we  gather  that  he  did  not 
mean  this  to  be  the  point  of  departure  for  his 
life. 

The  act  was  done  with  a  certain  circumspection, 
and  a  prudential  regard  for  consequences,  which 
shows  that  he  meant  meanwhile  to  live  his  old  life  in 
Pharaoh's  palace,  after  having  displayed  his  practical 


358  SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

sympathy  with  the  men  of  his  own  blood.  "He 
looked  this  way,  and  that  way,  and  when  he  saw  that 
there  was  no  man,  he  slew  the  Egyptian,  and  hid 
him  in  the  sand."  He  wanted  to  make  his  brethren 
feel  that  he  felt  for  them  and  was  in  heart  one  with 
them,  but  he  had  made  no  definite  decision  as  to 
how  he  was  going  to  rnn  his  life  on  these  lines ;  and 
in  taking  the  step  to  which  his  deepest  instincts 
prompted  him  there  was  a  timidity,  a  hesitancy, 
which  showed  it  to  be  not  the  result  of  principle. 
He  was  not  sure  of  himself,  and  was  not  sure  of 
duty,  and  not  sure  of  what  he  meant  to  do  afterwards, 
and  so  he  wanted  to  be  circumspect  and  not  commit 
himself  too  much  and  too  suddenly.  He  wanted  his 
sympathy  to  be  known  to  his  brethren,  but  to  be 
hidden  from  their  oppressors.  He  was  not  pre- 
pared with  a  policy  for  his  conduct.  If  he  had  felt 
it  to  be  the  absolute  imperative  of  duty,  he  would 
not  have  been  so  cautious  about  the  secrecy  of 
his  act. 

The  deepest  motive  in  his  mind  was  a  noble  one, 
to  identify  himself  with  his  down-trodden  people. 
His  heart  was  moved  with  pity  and  compassion,  and 
his  great  soul  chose  to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people 
of  God  rather  than  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a 
season.    But  the  way  of  duty  was  not  clear  to  him, 


SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE  259 

and  he  could  not  shake  himself  free  from  the  natural 
considerations  of  his  situation.  It  could  not  be 
clear,  heaven-sent  duty,  so  long  as  he  had  thoughts 
of  shame  or  fear,  which  made  him  look  this  way,  and 
that  way,  and  make  sure  that  he  was  unnoticed 
before  he  took  his  momentous  step.  How  different 
his  demeanour  was  in  after  years,  when  he  had 
completely  submitted  to  God,  and  knew  himself 
a  whole-hearted  servant  of  God !  When  he  bearded 
Pharaoh  and  all  the  wisdom  and  might  of  Egypt, 
there  was  no  more  hesitation,  and  no  mixed  motives, 
no  looking  this  way  and  that  way.  He  had  learned 
what  every  great  heart  must  learn,  and  does  learn  in 
the  presence  of  imperious  duty,  that  he  must  follow 
right  whithersoever  it  lead  him. 

The  sin  of  this  act,  apart  from  the  question  of 
the  right  to  slay  an  oppressor  which  in  any  case 
would  be  judged  from  a  different  standard  then  than 
now,  lay  in  the  moral  cowardice  that  would  not 
accept  the  consequences  of  the  act,  and  most  of  all 
in  the  unworthy  motives  which  destroyed  its  moral 
virtue  as  absolute  duty.  For  the  sin  he  was  sorely 
punished,  not  merely  by  incurring  the  anger  of 
Pharaoh  which  was  only  to  be  expected,  but  also  by 
the  suspicion  of  his  brethren  who  could  not  see  that 
he  did  desire  to  identify  himself  with  them  in  their 


260  SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

sorrows.  He  had  to  know  exile  and  the  desert 
loneliness,  before  his  motives  could  be  purged,  and 
himself  made  a  perfect  instrument  for  the  will  of 
God. 

It  was  natural,  however,  that  Moses  should  at  this 
time  show  caution  and  prudence  in  the  difficult 
position  in  which  he  was  placed,  and  natural  that  he 
should  be  tempted  to  regulate  his  conduct  according 
to  whether  any  one  could  see  him  when  he  looked 
this  way  and  that  way,  before  he  struck  the  decisive 
blow.  But  in  so  far  as  this  natural  temptation  was 
yielded  to,  in  so  far  his  act  lost  its  moral  virtue. 
For  prudence  is  not  morality.  Prudence  is  often  a 
good  quality,  and  even  fear  of  consequences  is  quite 
a  legitimate  motive  of  action,  a  motive  indeed  to 
which  all  our  laws  appeal  to  some  extent;  but  in 
itself  prudence  is  not  a  moral  quality.  It  was 
natural  that  Moses  should  consider  what  any  chance 
bystander  would  think  of  this  act;  but  in  so  far  as 
that  weighed  with  him,  in  so  far  his  act  lost  charac- 
ter as  a  moral  decision.  To  act  from  a  motive  of  fear 
is  to  take  the  virtue  out  of  the  act.  To  refrain  from 
an  act  for  the  same  motive  of  fear  may  be  a  good 
thing  for  the  man  and  for  the  conmiunity,  as  when 
a  burglar  refrains  from  theft  from  fear  of  the  police- 
man, but  it  is  not  a  moral  abstention.     It  does  not 


SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE  261 

become   moral   until   it   corresponds   to    an   inward 
judgment  of  right. 

When  we  seriously  consider  our  own  mind  and 
conduct,  we  must  be  struck  by  the  large  place  we 
give  in  all  questions  of  right  and  wrong  to  considera- 
tions like  those  which  marred  Moses'  act.  How 
often  we  do  things,  and  refrain  from  things,  not 
because  of  any  principle  in  ourselves,  but  merely 
because  of  some  outside  considerations,  such  as 
whether  when  we  look  this  way  and  that  way  there 
should  chance  to  be  no  man  in  sight.  To  many, 
duty  is  only  what  our  fellow-men  expect  of  us.  We 
conform  to  the  standard  of  the  community.  And 
when  we  are  freed  from  the  restraints  and  the 
sanctions  of  our  fellows,  we  lose  our  bearings,  and 
our  conduct  vacillates  from  one  side  to  another. 
Some  of  you  who  are  strangers  will  do  here  in  Scot- 
land what  you  would  not  dream  of  doing  at  home; 
and  Scotsmen  will  do  in  France  what  to  them  would 
be  impossible  in  Scotland.  Quite  apart  from  the 
merits  of  the  particular  thing,  whether  it  is  justifiable 
or  not,  the  point  is  that  all  acts  done  from  such 
outside  considerations  have  no  moral  worth.  The 
root  of  duty  is  inward,  conformity  to  a  standard  set 
up  in  a  man's  own  soul,  conformity  to  what  we  call 
conscience;  and  apart  from  that  there  is  no  such 


262  SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

thing  as  pure  morality.  A  thing  which  is  dependent 
on  your  looking  this  way  and  that  way  is  not 
absolute  duty  in  an  ethical  sense. 

At  the  same  time,  this  is  not  to  say  that  the  social 
conscience  of  the  community  to  which  most  of  us 
conform  is  a  thing  of  naught.  It  i?  one  of  the 
strongest  means  by  which  God  educates  us  morally. 
We  inherit  that  social  conscience  reflected  in  the 
opinion  of  our  fellow-men.  It  is  like  our  spiritual 
climate  into  which  we  are  born.  It  represents  the 
elowly-gathered  gains  of  the  past,  and  which  we  try 
to  formulate  in  legislation.  But  the  man  who  thinks 
he  performs  the  whole  duty  of  man  because  he  con- 
forms his  conduct  rigidly  to  the  legislation  of  his 
country  has  never  grasped  the  first  principles  of 
what  moral  duty  means.  Legislation  must  always 
lag  behind  the  keenest  sense  of  duty  which  the 
developed  conscience  of  individuals  feels.  It  is 
always  a  compromise,  too  high  for  some,  too  low 
for  others.  So  we  can  never  make  human  law  the 
standard  of  highest  action.  Our  code  of  law  is  not 
an  ideal,  but  a  working  scheme,  a  limit  below  which 
we  as  a  community  would  fain  not  fall.  A  man  may 
even  be  forced  to  break  law  in  the  interests  of  a 
higher  morality.  You  would  not  call  a  man  good 
necessarily  because  he   ruled   his  conduct  so  as  to 


SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE  263 

keep  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  policeman.  There 
are  ethically  worse  men  who  have  never  been  in  jail 
than  any  who  have  ever  been  in  it.  A  prison  may 
well  be — as  the  inscription  on  the  old  Edinburgh 
Tolbooth  had  it — 

Sometimes  a  place  of  right 
Sometimes  a  place  of  wrong, 
Sometimes  a  place  of  jades  and  thieves, 
And  honest  men  among. 

To  make  our  action  moral  we  need  a  higher  standard 
than  any  outside  one,  however  pure  that  may  be. 
If  our  lives  are  ruled  only  by  what  is  expected  of  us 
by  our  own  set,  by  what  our  society  thinks  respect- 
able, or  even  by  what  our  law  calls  legal,  we  are 
really  without  true  guidance,  and  are  at  the  mercy  of 
circumstances.  It  is  when  such  external  standards 
are  a  man's  only  rule  that  he  can  come  to  think  in 
Kipling's  line  that  there  are  no  ten  commandments 
East  of  Zuez.  If  we  are  always  at  the  mercy  of  the 
particular  moral  climatic  conditions  in  which  we 
happen  for  the  time  to  be,  if  we  cannot  decide  and 
act  until  we  have  looked  this  way  and  that  way  to 
make  sure  that  it  is  safe  or  permissible,  then  we  have 
abrogated  the  true  function  of  moral  life,  and  are 
false  to  our  own  highest  manhood. 

Our  judgments  and  decisions  must  be  made  inde- 


264  SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE 

pendently  of  fluctuating  circumstances,  if  need  be 
in  opposition  to  the  opinion  and  practice  of  the  com- 
munity. We  must  be  ready  to  obey  God  rather  than 
men,  to  listen  to  the  still  small  voice  of  conscience 
rather  than  the  loud  call  of  the  multitude,  to  resjDond 
to  the  dictates  of  duty,  not  to  the  fear  of  consequence. 
Man  is  not  like  to  horse  or  mule  which  have  no 
understanding.  He  is  not  asked  to  obey  blindly  a 
rule,  but  to  move  willingly  to  the  dictates  of  the 
highest  in  him.  When  he  does,  he  becomes  a  fellow- 
worker  with  God  for  his  own  life  as  well  as  for  the 
world  at  large.  God's  call  to  a  man,  therefore,  is 
ever  to  give  himself  up  freely  to  the  good,  to  submit 
his  heart  to  God,  and  to  regulate  his  life  by  obedience 
to  the  divine  guidance.  W^hen  Moses  did  this,  and 
had  made  the  complete  surrender,  duty  no  longer 
appeared  dubious,  dependent  on  looking  this  and 
that  way.  It  came  with  a  categorical  imperative. 
The  law  of  God  was  seen  to  be  the  law  of  his  own 
life;  God's  purpose  was  seen  to  be  the  end  of  his 
o\^Ti  being. 

E^othing  is  so  remarkable  in  the  life  of  our  Lord 
as  His  certitude  of  tread,  the  calm  assurance  with 
which  He  walked.  There  was  no  hesitancy  about 
His  moral  judgments.  He  lived  by  an  inward  rule ; 
He  walked  by  a  heavenly  light;  so  His  steps  never 


SOCIAL    CONSCIENCE  265 

faltered.  It  was  ever  the  path  of  duty,  simple,  direct, 
and  there  was  no  look  this  way  or  that  way,  though 
the  road  led  on  to  Calvary.  If  our  hearts  are  fixed 
on  God,  if  we  give  ourselves  to  follow  Jesus,  if  we 
abide  in  Him,  He  will  be  our  inward  light.  He  will 
become  our  very  conscience,  enlightening  it,  educat- 
ing it  in  the  fuller  apprehension  of  duty ;  His  Spirit 
will  take  of  the  things  of  God  and  show  them  unto 
us ;  we  will  be  concerned  simply  to  do  right,  to  please 
God,  to  follow  Jesus.  Our  whole  lives  will  become 
Christo-centric,  moving  unerringly  in  the  line  of  life. 
We  will  not  follow  even  a  multitude  to  do  evil.  We 
will  not  look  this  way  or  that  way  for  the  approval 
or  dissuasion  of  men:  we  will  look  in  the  face  of 
Jesus,  and  judge  all  things  by  what  we  see  there,  all 
ambition  and  desire,  all  motives,  all  conduct,  all  life, 
all  duty.  "An  highway  shall  be  there,  and  a  way, 
and  it  shall  be  called  the  way  of  holiness ;  wayfaring 
men  though  fools  shall  not  err  therein :  the  redeemed 
shall  walk  there." 

It  is  a  plain  path,  after  all,  that  way  of  life,  that 
leadeth  unto  God. 


XXIV 
ASKING    AND    GETTING 

Ask,  audit  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  sliall  find  ;  knock, 
and  it  sliall  be  opened  unto  you  :  for  every  one  that  askcth,  receiveth  ; 
and  lie  that  seeketh,  findeth  ;  and  to  Mm  that  knocketh,  it  shall  be 
opened.— ^T.  Matthew  vii.  7,  8. 

If  we  have  even  partially  understood  Christ's  teach- 
ing in  this  sermon  on  the  Mount,  with  its  impera- 
tives, with  its  strong  demands,  setting  forth  a 
righteousness  exceeding  the  righteousness  of  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees;  if  we  have  felt  that  Christ 
has  been  unfolding  the  blessed  life  for  us,  we  must 
have  been  struck  by  the  tacit  argument  for  prayer. 
As  part  by  part  of  the  Master's  high  design  for  men 
was  being  disclosed,  when  our  ears  heard  what  He 
expected  of  us,  when  the  chill  fell  upon  our  hearts 
as  we  compared  His  commandment  with  our  achieve- 
ment, our  thought  must  more  than  once  have  been, 
who  is  sufficient  for  these  things?  When  He 
preached  faith,  implicit  and  sweet  as  that  of  the 
birds  and  the  lilies,  to  us  with  our  doubts  and  our 

266 


ASKING    AND    GETTING         267 

cares  and  our  fretful  fears ;  when  He  preached  love 
as  high  as  the  love  of  heaven  to  us  with  our  dark 
envy  and  malice  and  anger  and  self-seeking;  what 
could  our  answer  be  but  a  sigh?  When  He  laid 
bare  the  secret  motives  and  selfish  designs  of 
hypocrites'  hearts,  when  He  solemnly  denounced 
the  false  righteousness  which  only  lived  in  an 
empty  parade,  when  He  touched  the  sins  that  mix 
with  our  most  holy  things,  the  desire  for  display, 
for  reputation,  seeking  other  rewards  than  a  pure 
conscience  and  the  Father's  smile,  did  not  even 
the  best  of  us  stand  rebuked  before  His  piercing 
gaze  ?  When  He  rescued  the  law  from  dead  formal- 
ism and  word-interpretation,  when  He  put  a  new 
higher  meaning  into  it  as  He  declared  with 
authority  "I  say  unto  you,"  did  He  not  seem  to  lift 
it  up  out  of  our  reach  altogether?  Who  can  think 
to  climb  the  glittering  peaks  of  the  Mount  of  God 
to  which  He  points?  Who  is  able  to  live  the  life 
of  love,  a  love  which  ever  gives  and  gives  again, 
which  is  tender  as  the  morning  dew  upon  the 
flowers?  Who  can  so  direct  his  steps  that  he  may 
keep  in  the  way  of  life  ?  How  can  a  man  attain  to 
what  the  Master  teaches?  Christ's  answer  to  this 
evident  difficulty  is — Ask,  seek,  knock.  He  has 
forced  in  on  us  the  acknowledgment  of  the  argu- 


268         ASKING    AND    GETTING 

ment  for  prayer.    He  impresses  us  with  the  practical 
need  of  it,  and  then  He  says  Pray. 

ISTeander,  whose  opinion  is  always  worth  con- 
sidering, thinks  this  passage  about  prayer  an  inter- 
polation. It  was,  he  thinks,  said  by  our  Lord  on 
another  occasion,  and  put  in  here  by  St.  Matthew. 
He  does  not  see  any  connection  between  the 
passage  and  the  rest  of  the  sermon.  Probably  Christ 
did  use  this  argument  on  another  occasion,  for  He 
was  often  giving  His  disciples  lessons  about  prayer, 
but  it  seems  to  me  natural  and  even  necessary  that 
such  teaching  should  be  included  in  this  reported 
sermon.  It  would  not  have  been  complete  without 
it;  an  important  part  of  the  Master's  teaching 
would  have  been  omitted.  In  another  part  of  this 
sermon  Christ  had  already  given  part  of  His  teach- 
ing about  prayer.  He  had  warned  against  the  vices 
of  Pharisaic  religion  and  of  Pagan  religion  in  this 
matter  of  prayer.  He  warned  against  the  osten- 
tation and  display,  which  magnified  the  form  and 
time  and  place,  and  killed  the  spirit.  The  reward  of 
prayer  is  power  to  pray,  a  prayerful  spirit,  a  life  in 
secret  communion  with  the  Father.  He  warned 
also  against  vain  repetition,  the  folly  of  thinking  to 
be  heard  for  much  speaking.  These  are  external 
views  of  prayer  due  to  low  and  unworthy  thoughts 


ASKING    AND    GETTING         269. 

of  God.      Christian  prayer  is  spiritual,   a  thing  of 
the  soul  and  the  whole  attitude  of  life. 

But  because  He  condemned  formality  and  repeti- 
tion, our  Lord  must  not  be  mistaken  to  mean  that 
short,  irregular,  perfunctory  prayer  is  all  that  is 
required ;  for  here  He  continues  His  lesson  in  prayer, 
a  lesson  which,  among  other  things,  teaches  the 
necessity  for  earnestness,  for  full  urgent  desire.  It 
is  even  a  lesson  in  perseverance,  showing  the  value 
of  unwearied  asking,  the  power  of  persistence  in 
seeking.  Prayer  is  a  thing  of  the  whole  life.  The 
question  is  not  what  do  you  do  on  occasions,  but 
what  are  you  ? — not  do  you  perform  certain  acts  of 
worship  and  devotion,  but  are  you  worshipful  in 
heart,  prayerful  in  life,  reverent  in  mind  ?  Is  com- 
munion with  you  only  an  act  now  and  again  achieved, 
or  a  state  at  all  times  lived  ?  To  come  once  in  a 
while  to  bend  before  the  altar  in  formal  fashion  is 
to  make  the  Pharisees'  mistake.  Christ  teaches  that 
the  altar  should  be  set  up  in  the  soul  to  become  the 
centre  and  the  source  of  your  life.  In  the  heart 
must  be  the  praying-ground,  stretched  out  at  the 
feet  of  God. 

Prayer  therefore  is  not  formal,  though  it  has  its 
fit  forms  and  occasions  which  become  channels  of 
blessing.     It  is  not   bound  to   these,   need   not   be 


270         ASKING    AND    GETTING 

confined  to  set  times  and  seasons.  In  its  essence 
it  should  be  continuous,  without  intermission,  un- 
affected by  any  outward  change.  It  is  the  bent  of 
the  life,  the  bias  of  a  mind  which  is  ever  towards 
God.  Those  therefore  who  stop  with  Christ's 
negative  teaching,  such  as  His  warning  against 
Pharisaic  ostentation  and  heathen  re]3etition,  mis- 
take Him.  Prayer  to  Christ  was  a  lifelong  thing 
with  never  a  break  or  gap  in  it.  It  was  an  instinct 
and  a  habit,  an  instinct  which  sprang  out  of  the 
depths  of  life,  and  a  habit  which  covered  the  whole 
extent  of  life.  This  subject  of  prayer  is  vital.  It 
cannot  be  left  to  chance  or  to  mood,  any  more  than 
it  can  be  confined  to  form.  Without  it  the  blessed 
life  is  a  dream.  Without  it  the  sermon  on  the 
Mount  is  a  mockery.  Without  it  the  righteousness 
of  the  Kingdom  is  set  for  our  despair.  The  rich 
fair  fruit  of  Christian  living  is  only  possible  because 
it  has  its  root  in  prayer. 

The  life  which  our  Lord  discloses  in  this  sermon 
is  no  easy  achievement,  the  result  of  casual  thought 
and  chance  effort.  It  is  strenuous  life,  and  can  only 
be  maintained  strenuously.  If  it  depends  on  prayer, 
the  prayer  must  be  strenuous.  It  does  depend  on 
prayer;  for  prayer  brings  God  into  the  life.  The 
language  which  Christ  uses  here  represents  urgency. 


ASKING    AND    GETTING         271 

It  rises  in  an  ascending  scale,  gathering  force  as  it 
goes,  till  it  reaches  a  climax.  Prayer  must  gain  in 
fervour.  It  must  grow.  It  is  urgent :  it  is  persist- 
ent: it  gets  clamorous.  Ask:  be  not  content  with 
asking,  seek:  he  not  content  with  seeking,  knock. 
Genius  has  been  called  the  capacity  for  taking 
pains,  the  power  of  toiling  terribly.  Nothing  truly 
and  lastingly  great  has  ever  been  produced  with- 
out something  of  that  overmastering  fervour  which 
counts  all  toil  small  for  the  great  end  in  view. 
Think  you  that  the  great  aim  of  life  is  of  less 
importance  than  any  work  of  art  which  genius 
produces  ?  To  gain  the  heights  you  will  need 
perseverance.  To  build  up  character  you  will  need 
the  capacity  for  taking  pains.  To  work  in  the 
Kingdom  you  will  need  the  fervour  of  soul  which 
loses  itself  in  its  work.  To  keep  step  with  Christ, 
the  lagging  feet  must  be  winged.  Where  is  there 
such  need  for  the  genius  which  toils  terribly  as 
here  ?  To  live  the  blessed  life  one  needs  and  must 
have  genius,  the  genius  for  prayer.  The  pervading 
spirit  must  be  perfervid — ask!  seek!  knock! 

But  perhaps  the  chief  lesson  which  our  Lord 
taught  in  this  passage  is  the  certainty  of  answered 
prayer.  The  repetition  gives  emphasis  to  that. 
"Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you;  seek,  and  ye  shall 


272  ASKING    AND    GETTING 

find;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you." 
And  not  content  with  this  reiterated  assertion,  it 
is  repeated  all  again  in  a  wider  form  and  stated 
as  a  law  of  universal  application — "For  every 
one  that  asketh  receiveth,  and  he  that  seeketh 
findeth,  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be 
opened."  It  is  stated  as  a  law,  and  it  is  a  law. 
Our  Lord  never  apologised  for  prayer,  never  built 
up  a  defence  for  praying;  and  we  do  not  need  to 
do  so.  The  time  has  long  since  passed  for  that. 
It  is  its  own  apology:  it  itself  is  its  evidence.  We 
cannot  help  but  pray,  whether  it  avails  us  or  not. 
The  human  race  is  ever  on  its  knees  on  tlie  altar 
stairs  "that  slope  through  darkness  up  to  God." 
Life  is  a  bundle  of  needs.  It  is  begun,  continued, 
and  ended  somewhere  in  the  graduated  scale  of 
asking,  seeking,  knocking.  The  object  of  living 
seems  to  be  to  reveal  to  us  our  needs  that  we  may 
strive  to  satisfy  them.  We  are  creatures  of  immense 
desire  which  forces  us  to  seek  fulfilment. 

We  speak  about  unanswered  prayer,  because  we 
take  a  limited  and  narrow  view  both  of  prayer 
and  of  its  true  answer.  There  is  no  unanswered 
prayer.  All  men  ask  in  their  time,  and  the  result 
comes  with  the  certainty  of  law.  God's  world  is 
lio  delusion:  it  is    a  mighty  system  of  cause  and 


ASKING    AND    GETTING         273 

effect.  Strike  the  cause  fairly,  and  the  effect  will 
follow.  Christ  builds  His  argument  for  prayer  on 
this  natural  basis.  The  problem  of  unanswered 
prayer  is  due  to  wrong  ideas  of  prayer  or  of  the 
answer.  Prayer  is  no  magical  charm  to  get  what 
the  idle  heart  or  giddy  eye  desires;  or  rather  what 
they  do  really  desire  is  their  prayer,  and  after  that 
fashion  and  after  no  other  will  they  be  answered. 
But  that  an  answer  of  some  kind  must  come  is  a 
fact.  Your  life  has  a  prayer,  a  solemn,  serious 
prayer.  You  may  never  have  put  it  into  words; 
you  may  not  be  fully  conscious  of  it.  The  answer 
to  your  prayer  is  forming  itself  as  the  prayer  is 
uttered.  That  for  which  you  are  asking,  seeking, 
knocking  —  what  is  it  ?  —  that  you  are  getting. 
What  is  your  prayer? — not  necessarily  your  words, 
your  spoken  petitions,  your  fleeting  chance  aspira- 
tions. 

For  example,  though  you  come  formally  asking 
for  humility,  if  you  are  giving  over  your  heart  to 
pride  and  your  life  to  empty  vanity,  then  pride  is 
your  prayer  and  not  humility,  and  the  curse  of 
pride,  its  pitiful  loveless  portion  is  your  answer. 
Though  you  come  beseeching  for  purity,  asking  to 
be  cleansed  from  the  stain  of  sin,  if  your  heart  is 
ever  turning  to  its  sin,  covertly  rejoicing  in  it,  if 


274         ASKING    AND    GETTING 

it  is  a  welcome  nest  for  impure  thoughts  and  foul 
desires,  if  your  whole  life  is  bending  that  way, 
that  is  your  prayer  and  not  the  other.  The  answers 
come  with  unerring  precision.  ISTot  those  few  and 
formal  words  you  utter,  not  those  conventional 
phrases  are  your  prayers,  but  that  for  which  your 
eye  lusts  and  your  heart  hankers.  As  you  are, 
so  are  your  prayers.  The  important  thing  is  not 
that  you  should  ask,  for  you  cannot  help  asking, 
but  that  you  should  ask  aright.  That  which  is 
a  savour  of  life  unto  life  can  be  a  savour  of  death 
unto  death. 

If  we  pray  out  of  a  sincere  heart,  if  our  whole 
intention  is  bent  in  the  direction  of  our  words, 
if  there  is  passion  in  our  praying,  really  desiring 
the  thing  we  utter,  asking,  seeking,  knocking  for 
the  best  gifts,  the  answer  comes  with  the  same 
certainty.  Our  Lord  is  speaking  here  to  those 
who  desire  the  righteousness  of  the  Kingdom  and 
who  long  for  the  blessed  life  and  seek  to  tread 
the  narrow  way.  He  assures  them  that  they  shall 
have  their  appropriate  reward.  He  made  the  same 
promise  when  He  said,  "Blessed  are  they  that  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness;  for  they  shall  be 
filled."  We  reap  as  living  souls  the  measure  of 
our  sowing.     We  get  along  the  line  of  our  desire 


ASKING    AND    GETTING         275 

if  it  be  onr  real  desire.  Be  not  shy  of  asking; 
for  every  one  that  asketh  receiveth.  Seek  great 
things  from  God ;  for  he  that  seeketh  findeth. 
Let  no  man  shame  you  from  knocking  as  if  there 
were  no  way  through  where  you  knock;  for  to 
him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be  opened. 

All  men's  prayers  to  Thee  raised 

Return  possessed  of  what  they  pray  Thee. 

As  the  man  of  affairs  attains  capacity  to  deal 
with  business  by  giving  himself  unremittingly  to 
practice;  as  the  scholar  becomes  learned  by  giving 
himself  to  study;  so  the  saint  becomes  such  by 
giving  himself  to  prayer.  And  as  we  have  seen, 
it  is  a  sphere  which  is  open  to  all;  for  it  is  not 
a  matter  of  formal  times  and  vain  repetition,  but 
a  matter  of  the  bent  of  the  life  and  the  attitude 
of  the  heart  towards  God. 

Have  we  any  desire  in  the  matter,  any  longing 
for  the  pure  heart  and  the  merciful  spirit  and  the 
meek  mind  and  the  saintly  thirst  after  goodness  ? 
With  all  our  seeking  do  we  ever  seek  spiritual 
communion,  and  the  peace  that  passeth  knowledge? 
We  are  only  on  the  surface  of  life,  till  we  have 
developed  some  deeper  needs  than  the  world  can 
ever  supply.      Let  us   ask   for  higher   things,   and 


276         ASKING    AND    GETTING 

seek  some  larger  things,  and  knock  at  untried  doors. 
Let  our  desire  be  towards  God;  let  it  be  our  wish 
that  Christ  shall  so  dominate  us  that  we  think  His 
thoughts  and  speak  His  speech ;  let  the  blessed  life 
be  our  ambition ;  and  we  shall  ask  much  and  receive 
everything;  we  shall  seek  and  find  the  sweet  mys- 
teries of  divine  love;  and  shall  knock  at  unopened 
gates  which  will  usher  us  into  wondrous  ways  that 
bring  us  home  to  God. 


XXV 
THE    HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

If  thou  iMstrun  with  the  footmen,  and  they  have  wearied  thee, 
then  how  canst  thou  contend  with  horses  ?  and  though  in  a  land  of 
'peace  thou  art  secure,  yet  how  wilt  thou  do  in  the  pride  of  Jordan? 
— Jeremiah  xii.  5  (R.  V.)- 

We  get  many  glimpses  into  the  personality  of  Jere- 
miah. Though  the  story  of  his  life  is  fragmentary, 
we  can  read  the  story  of  his  heart.  Again  and 
again  we  see  something  which  reveals  his  inner 
nature.  We  see  a  timid,  shrinking  man  in  process 
of  hardening  to  be  made  the  prophet  required  for 
his  generation.  That  character,  keen  and  strong 
like  well-tempered  steel,  was  formed  in  the  fire.  It 
was  ever  through  the  furnace  of  living  pain.  Of  all 
the  martyrdoms  of  the  Bible — and  it  is  a  long  record 
of  martyrdoms — there  is  none  so  unrelieved  as  this 
one.  Christ  had  keener  sorrow,  but  He  also  had 
keener  joy.  He  had  a  hope  which  was  assurance. 
He  knew  that  His  blood  would  be  the  seed  of  the 
Church.  Whatever  the  present  might  have  been 
to  Him,  He  had  always  the  future.     "For  the  jojr 

377 


278     HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

that  was  set  before  Him  He  endured  the  cross 
despising  the  shame."  Jeremiah  escaped  pangs  that 
only  the  pure  heart  of  Christ  could  feel,  but  he  was 
forced  by  the  facts  of  his  age  to  utter  a  message  that 
had  few  notes  of  hope.  He  lived  on  till  he  was  an 
old  man,  and  saw  the  calamities  he  had  himself 
predicted.  His  eyes,  that  had  wept  over  the  Holy 
City,  saw  it  sacked  and  depopulated.  He  had  to 
witness  the  fulfilment  of  his  own  words  of  doom. 
Unless  we  can  enter  with  some  sjnnpathy  into  the 
sort  of  man  Jeremiah  was  by  nature,  unless  we 
can  understand  the  man,  we  cannot  understand  the 
book.  Once  and  again  he  wished  to  give  up  the 
task  as  too  heavy  a  burden  for  him  to  bear;  but 
ever  he  was  braced  to  face  his  destiny  once  more 
with  clear  eye  and  stern  brow. 

In  the  present  instance  we  see  the  prophet's  educa- 
tion going  on.  We  see  him  being  hardened  in  the 
fire  like  a  Damascus  blade.  In  a  mood  of  depression, 
sick  with  his  failure  in  the  great  city,  he  longs  for 
the  quiet  village  hallowed  by  the  peaceful  days  of 
his  youth.  He  turns  to  home  like  a  tired  bird  to 
its  nest,  as  a  wounded  beast  drags  himself  to  his 
lair — to  find  in  the  nest  a  scorpion !  His  fellow- 
townsmen,  even  his  brethren  and  the  house  of  his 
father,    even    they    dealt    treacherously    with    him. 


HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE     279 

He  is  learning  the  loneliness  of  life  at  the  high 
altitudes.  The  ordinary  forms  of  good  and  evil 
easily  find  comradeship.  Men  shudder  at  an  ex- 
ceptional evil,  and  shrink  from  an  exceptional  good. 
J^ot  every  one  w^ants  to  breathe  the  foul  vapours 
of  the  pit;  not  every  one  can  breathe  the  rarefied 
air  of  the  heights.  Commonplace  good  and  evil 
attract  crowds  according  to  their  kind.  Jeremiah 
had  to  pay  the  price  of  singularity.  He  had  to 
learn  not  only  to  do  without  the  sweet  incense  of 
popular  favour,  but  also  to  stand  unflinching  even 
when  it  turned  into  the  hot  breath  of  hatred.  He 
had  to  submit  not  only  to  be  without  friends,  but 
to  see  friends  become  foes. 

This  experience  through  which  the  prophet  passed 
is  a  cruel  one.  It  either  makes  a  man,  or  mars  him, 
and  nearly  always  hardens  him.  It  creates  an  in- 
dignation, a  holy  anger  sometimes  against  men, 
sometimes  against  the  strange  untoward  state  of 
affairs,  sometimes  against  God.  It  has  made  some 
raise  blasphemous  voice  and  impious  hand.  Such 
an  experience  is  always  presented  with  the  tempta- 
tion, which  came  to  Job,  to  curse  God  and  die. 
The  injustice  of  it  rankles  in  the  heart,  unless  the 
heart  is  bent  humbly  and  inquiringly  to  God  to 
learn  what  the  true  meaning  of  the  visitation  may 


280     HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

be.  Jeremiah  here  is  kicking  against  the  pricks 
which  have  wounded  the  feet  of  men  for  centuries, 
how  to  account  for  the  fact  that  in  a  world  governed 
by  a  righteous  God,  righteousness  should  often  have 
to  suffer  so  much.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  cruel 
experience  he  never  lets  go  his  grip  of  God. 
"Righteous  art  Thou,  O  God,"  he  says — whatever 
comes,  that  is  the  first  established  fact  of  life. 
"Yet,"  he  continues  in  holy  boldness,  "let  me  reason 
with  Thee  of  Thy  judgments.  Wherefore  doth  the 
wicked  prosper?  Wherefore  are  all  they  at  peace 
that  deal  treacherously?"  His  indignant  soul,  on 
fire  for  justice,  cries  out  that  it  ought  not  to  be  so. 
But  the  undercurrent  of  the  complaint  is  not  the 
seeming  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  but  his  own  pain 
and  sorrow  and  terrible  adversity.  We  do  not  ask  a 
solution  of  the  universe,  till  we  are  forced  to  ask  a 
solution  of  our  own  place  and  lot  in  it.  God's  prov- 
idence seemed  perfect  to  Job,  till  he  was  caught  in 
the  tempest  and  tossed  aside  broken.  We  are  not 
much  concerned  about  mere  abstract  injustice. 
Jeremiah's  wherefore  about  the  wicked  is  really  a 
why  about  himself.  Why  am  I  bared  to  the  blast  in 
following  Thy  will  and  performing  Thy  command  ? 
Why  are  tears  and  strife  my  portion?  Why  am  I 
wearied  out  and  left  desolate,  though  I  am  fighting 


HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE     281 

the    Lord's    battle  ?      That    is    the    prophet's    real 
complaint. 

ISTotice  the  answer,  surely  the  strangest  and  most 
inconsequent  ever  given.  There  is  no  attempt  at 
explanation.  God  never  explains  Himself  in  a 
ready-made  fashion.  God  explains  Himself  through 
life.  God  explains  Himself  by  deeds.  The  com- 
plaint here  is  answered  by  a  counter-complaint. 
Jeremiah's  charge  against  God  of  injustice  is  met  by 
God's  charge  against  Jeremiah  of  weakness.  If  thou 
hast  run  with  the  footmen,  and  they  have  wearied 
thee,  then  how  canst  thou  contend  with  horses  ?  If 
in  the  land  of  peace  thou  art  secure,  how  wilt  thou 
do  (O  faint-hearted  one!)  in  the  pride  of  Jordan? 
The  "Pride  of  Jordan"  means  the  dangerous  ground 
by  the  river,  where  the  heat  is  almost  tropical  and 
the  vegetation  is  rank.  It  is  jungle,  tangled  bush 
where  wild  beasts  lurk,  leopards  and  wolves  and  (at 
that  time  also)  lions.  The  answer  to  the  complaint 
against  the  hardness  of  his  lot  is  simply  the  asser- 
tion that  it  shall  be  harder  still.  He  has  only  been 
running  with  footmen  so  far — he  will  have  to  con- 
tend with  horses,  when  he  may  have  cause  to  speak  of 
weariness.  He  has  only  been  living  in  a  land  of  peace 
so  far — he  will  have  to  dwell  in  the  jungle  where  are 
wild  beasts,  and  then  he  may  talk  of  danger. 


282     HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

Does  it  seem  an  unfeeling  answer?  It  was  the 
answere  Jeremiah  needed.  He  needed  to  be  braced, 
not  pampered.  He  is  taught  the  need  of  endurance. 
It  is  a  strange  cure  for  cowardice,  a  strange  remedy 
for  weakness ;  yet  it  is  effective.  It  gives  stiffening 
to  the  souh  The  tear-stained  face  is  lifted  up  calm 
once  more.  A  new  resolution  creeps  into  the  eye  to 
prove  worthy  of  the  new  responsibility.  God  appeals 
to  the  strength  in  Jeremiah,  not  to  the  weakness.  By 
God's  grace  I  will  fight,  and  fighting  fall  if  need  l3e. 
By  God's  grace  I  will  contend  even  with  horses ;  and 
I  will  go  to  the  pride  of  Jordan  though  the  jungle 
growl  and  snarl.  This  was  the  result  on  Jeremiah, 
and  it  was  the  result  required.  Only  a  heroic  soul 
could  do  the  heroic  work  needed  by  Israel  and  by 
God,  and  it  was  the  greatest  heroism  of  all  which  was 
needed,  the  heroism  of  endurance. 

N^othing  worth  doing  can  be  done  in  this  world 
without  something  of  that  iron  resolution.  It  is  the 
spirit  which  never  knows  defeat,  which  cannot  be 
worn  out,  which  has  taken  its  stand  and  refuses 
to  move.  This  is  the  "patience"  about  which  the 
Bible  is  full,  not  the  sickly  counterfeit  which  so  often 
passes  for  patience,  but  the  power  to  bear,  to  suffer, 
to  sacrifice,  to  endure  all  things,  to  die,  harder  still 
sometimes   to   continue   to  live.     The  whole  world 


HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE     283 

teaches  that  patience.  Life  in  her  struggle  with 
nature  is  lavish  of  her  resources.  She  is  willing  to 
sacrifice  anything  for  the  bare  maintenance  of  exist- 
ence meanwhile.  Inch  by  inch  each  advance  has  to 
be  gained,  fought  for,  paid  for,  kept.  It  is  the  lesson 
of  all  history  also,  both  for  the  individual  and  for  a 
body  of  men  who  have  espoused  any  cause. 

Christ's  Church  has  survived  through  her  power 
to  endure.  She  was  willing  to  give  up  anything  to 
hold  her  ground,  willing  to  pour  out  blood  like  water 
in  order  to  take  root.  The  mustard  seed,  planted 
with  tears  and  watered  with  blood,  stood  the  hazard 
of  every  storm,  gripped  tenaciously  the  soil,  twining 
its  roots  round  the  rocks,  reared  its  head  ever  a  little 
higher,  and  spread  out  its  branches  ever  a  little 
fuller,  and  when  the  tempest  came  held  on  for  very 
life ;  and  then,  never  hasting,  never  resting,  went  on 
in  the  divine  task  of  growing ;  and  at  last  became  the 
greatest  of  trees,  giving  shelter  to  the  birds  of  the  air 
in  its  wide-spreading  branches.  So  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  It  is  a  true  parable  of  the  Church.  She 
conquered  violence,  not  by  violence,  but  by  virtue. 
She  overcame  force,  not  by  force,  but  by  patience. 
Her  sons  were  ready  to  die — to  die  daily — to  run 
with  footmen,  and  then  to  contend  with  horses.  It 
was  given  unto  them  not  only  to  believe  in  Christ, 


284     HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

but  to  suffer  for  His  sake.  They  could  not  be 
stamped  out.  When  their  persecutors  thought  they 
were  scattered  like  chaff,  it  turned  out  that  they 
were  scattered  like  seed.  The  omnipotent  power  of 
Rome  was  impotent  before  such  resolution.  The 
battle  is  the  place  to  make  soldiers,  not  the  barracks. 
The  Church  met  the  Empire,  and  broke  it  through 
the  sheer  power  to  endure.  She  was  willing  to  suffer, 
and  to  suffer,  and  to  suffer — and  afterwards  to 
conquer. 

It  is  the  same  secret  of  success  for  the  individual 
spiritual  life.  "In  your  patience  ye  shall  win  your 
souls."  This  method  is  utterly  opposed  to  the  world's 
method  of  insuring  success,  which  is  by  self-assertion, 
aggressive  action,  force  for  force,  blow  for  blow. 
Patience,  not  violence,  is  the  Christian's  safety. 
Even  if  all  else  be  lost,  it  saves  the  soul,  the  true 
life.  It  gives  fibre  to  the  character.  It  purifies  the 
heart,  as  gold  in  the  furnace.  "Violence  does  even 
justice  unjustly,"  says  Carlyle — which  was  a  great 
admission  for  him,  who  worshipped  might  of  any 
kind  even  when  displayed  in  violence.  The  Church 
wearied  out  the  Empire,  and  then  absorbed  it.  And 
it  was  only  when  she  forgot  her  Master's  method  and 
adopted  the  world's  method,  wielding  the  secular 
sword,  that  she  grew  weak.     This  is  Christ's  plan  of 


HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE     285 

campaign,  for  the  Church  and  for  the  individual. 
"He  that  endureth  to  the  end  shall  be  saved." 

What  do  we  know  of  this  heroic  endurance?  In 
our  fight  with  temptation,  in  our  warfare  against  all 
forms  of  evil,  have  we  used  our  Master's  watchword, 
and  practised  our  Master's  scheme  ?  Think  of  our 
temptation  in  the  matter  of  Foreign  Missions,  for 
example.  It  is  often  looked  on  as  a  burden,  some- 
thing we  must  do  because  it  has  come  to  be  expected 
as  a  sort  of  duty.  It  is  not  a  fire  in  our  bones  which 
will  give  us  no  peace.  It  is  not  a  task  to  which  we 
feel  we  have  been  sent.  We  do  not  realise  that 
Christ's  soul  is  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished.  We 
are  easily  made  faint-hearted  about  it.  We  say  that 
results  are  disproportionate  to  the  effort;  or  rather 
(for  that  is  not  true)  we  are  overpowered  by  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  work.  If  we  find  our  small  attempt  a 
burden,  how  can  we  face  the  vaster  problem  of 
making  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  the  kingdom  of 
God  and  His  Christ  ?  If  we  are  wearied  in  our  race 
with  footmen,  how  can  we  contend  with  horses  ? 

We  are  so  easily  dispirited,  not  only  in  Christian 
enterprise,  but  also  in  personal  Christian  endeavour. 
We  are  so  soon  tempted  to  give  up.  The  enemy 
is  too  hard  to  dislodge ;  a  besetting  sin  in  our  lives 
is  too  stvibborn;  a  rampant  evil  in  our  community 


286     HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE 

is  too  deeply  rooted;  the  beautiful  kiugdom  of 
heaven  of  our  dreams  is  an  impossible  task.  Faint- 
hearted cravens  that  we  are,  what  are  we  here  in 
this  world  for?  To  find  a  land  of  peace  in  which 
to  be  secure  ?  To  look  for  a  soft  place  ?  To  find 
an  easy  task?  To  match  ourselves  against  some 
halting  footmen  ?  We  need  some  iron  in  our  blood. 
We  need  to  be  braced  to  the  conflict  again.  We 
need  the  noble  scorn  of  consequence.  What  have 
we  done,  the  best  of  us,  for  God  or  for  man  ?  What 
have  we  endured  for  the  dream's  sake  ?  What  have 
we  given  up  in  our  self-indulgent  life  ?  What  sacri- 
fice have  we  ever  made  ?  The  folly  of  holding  out 
for  a  little,  and  at  last  giving  up,  and  letting  the 
truth  slip  from  our  fingers !  The  folly  of  beginning 
in  the  spirit,  and  at  last  ending  miserably  in  the 
flesh !  "Ye  have  not  resisted  unto  blood,  fighting 
against  sin." 

Is  there  to  be  no  end  to  the  warfare  and  the 
weariness  ?  Is  there  to  be  no  end  in  the  individual 
struggle,  and  in  the  social  endeavour?  Must  Jere- 
miah harden  himself  for  ever  and  stiffen  himself 
ever  to  endure  ?  Must  we  resist  for  ever  the  sins 
of  our  own  hearts  ?  Must  we  protest  for  ever  against 
the  evil  of  the  world  ?  For  ever,  if  need  be !  To 
begin  to  serve  God  is  to  serve  Him  for  ever.     It 


HEROISM    OF    ENDURANCE     287 

knows  no  cessation.  Complainings  die  in  His  pres- 
ence, and  we  are  sent  out  again,  Christ's  belted 
knights — His  for  ever. 

If  God  send  a  man  to  contend  with  horses,  it  is 
well.  If  God  send  a  man  to  the  pride  of  Jordan,  it 
is  well.  He  will  not  go  alone.  A  land  of  peace 
without  God  is  a  terror.  The  jungle  of  Jordan  with 
God  is  peace,  ISTever  a  soul  is  tempted  above  what 
it  can  bear.  !Never  a  life  is  defeated  that  arms  itself 
with  the  whole  armour  of  God. 

Lift  up  the  hands  which  hang  down,  and 
strengthen  the  feeble  knees,  and  make  straight  paths 
for  your  feet,     "My  grace  is  sufficient  for  you." 


XXVI 

THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

He  that  loveth  pureness  of  heart,  for  tTie  grace  of  his  lips  the  king 
shall  be  his  friend. — Provebbs  xxii.  11. 

In  a  book  of  proverbial  pbilosophy,  which  takes 
aspects  of  religion  and  life  and  crystallises  them 
into  aphorisms,  it  is  natural  to  expect  many  prov- 
erbs about  goodness  and  the  good  man.  The  Book 
abounds  with  succinct  ways  of  saying  that  only  the 
good  life  is  worth  living,  and  that  to  sow  iniquity  is 
to  reap  vanity.  It  puts  into  homely  language  the 
instinctive  thought  of  the  human  heart  that  right- 
eousness can  never  be  as  wickedness  in  the  estima- 
tion either  of  God  or  man.  Many  of  these  sayings 
are  the  fruit  of  the  first  natural  presupposition  that 
success  ought  to  be  the  reward  of  the  good  and  only 
of  the  good.  It  is  only  just  and  reasonable  in  a 
world  governed  by  a  just  and  reasonable  God  to 
expect  this.  The  world  should  be  built  on  lines 
which  make  this  not  only  possible  but  inevitable; 
and  of  course  if  we  are  quite  sure  of  our  terms  as 

288 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     289 

to  what  is  really  success  and  what  is  really  goodness, 
this  instinctive  reasoning  would  be  proven  correct. 
Prophets  and  saints,  however,  had  to  learn  not  to 
judge  by  the  eye,  and  not  to  jump  to  the  conclusion 
that  every  success  they  saw  in  life  was  an  evidence 
of  God's  favour  and  every  adversity  a  sign  of  sin. 
But  even  on  the  surface  of  life  there  is  sufficient 
ground  to  accept  the  first  fresh  assumption  that  it 
is  well  to  be  good  and  wise  to  do  good.  It  is  not 
the  last  word  on  the  subject,  but  it  is  a  true  word 
so  far  as  it  goes.  There  is  much  worldly  wisdom 
in  the  Book  of  Proverbs;  and  even  worldly  wisdom 
admits  and  declares  (with  becoming  limitations) 
that  honesty  is  the  best  policy,  and  that  inconsider- 
ate selfishness  alienates  other  men.  Even  if  there 
were  nothing  else  than  worldly  wisdom  in  the  Book, 
there  is  enough  to  justify  it  in  saying  this  among 
other  happy  things  about  goodness,  "He  that  loveth 
pureness  of  heart,  for  the  grace  of  his  lips  the  king 
shall  be  his  friend." 

The  form  of  the  sentence  owes  its  origin  to  a  more 
primitive  state  of  society  than  ours,  when  an  ideal 
king  in  a  city  like  Jerusalem  was  looked  on  as  a 
shepherd  of  his  people,  and  when  he  could  be  sup- 
posed to  know  all  about  each  of  them.  The  general 
report  about  a  man's  life  and  character  could  reach 


290     THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

]aim;  and  if  lie  were  a  wise  and  good  king  he  would 
be  glad  to  learn  of  a  subject  living  a  noble,  good 
life,  for  he  would  know  that  such  men  were  the 
strength  of  his  kingdom,  and  he  would  want  to 
make  them  his  friends  to  whom  he  could  go  for 
counsel,  sure  that  no  thought  of  self-seeking  could 
mar  it.  It  is  a  pretty  picture  of  primitive  times 
when  kings  were  not  in  such  great  disproportion  to 
the  number  of  the  population;  and  we  see  why  the 
prophets  laid  so  much  stress  on  kings  being  worthy 
men,  since  so  much  dej^ended  on  them  in  moulding 
the  sentiment  and  life  of  the  whole  community.  If 
the  king  who  is  the  fountain  of  honour,  on  hearing 
of  the  helpful,  useful  acts  of  one  of  the  humblest  of 
his  subjects,  summoned  him  to  court  and  begged 
the  favour  of  his  friendship ;  that  would  be  surely  a 
proof  positive  that  it  was  worth  while  being  good. 
To  feel  that  the  king's  eyes  were  upon  you,  and  that 
they  only  looked  with  pleasure  on  honest  and  true 
men,  would  be  an  incentive  to  sincere  living.  But 
though  kings  are  no  longer  on  such  intimate  terms 
with  ordinary  beings,  the  thought  of  the  proverb  is 
plain,  that  in  a  properly  constituted  state  of  society 
goodness  should  always  meet  with  its  deserts;  and 
that  indeed,  even  as  things  are,  this  is  so,  though  in 
a  very  limited  and  modified  degree. 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     201 

Kow  this  is  certainly  one  side  of  the  truth.  We 
are  inclined  in  all  our  religious  thinking  to  consider 
almost  exclusively  the  other  and  darker  side,  of  the 
enmity  of  the  world  to  God,  and  the  tribulation 
which  His  saints  so  often  experience  at  the  hand  of 
men,  and  the  loneliness  of  life  at  its  great  heights, 
when  a  man  is  separated  from  his  fellows  and  made 
to  feel  his  own  singularity,  if  not  also  their  hatred. 
We  only  need  to  know  a  page  or  two  of  the  religious 
history  of  the  race  to  know  how  true  all  this  is ;  and 
if  a  man  would  be  good  he  must  be  willing  to  do 
without  the  applause  of  men  and  be  willing  to  stand 
alone  with  God.  That  side  is  true  and  has  often 
been  insisted  on  from  this  pulpit.  But  you  cannot 
put  the  religious  life  into  a  formula  and  confine  it 
by  set  lines.  It  is  well,  therefore,  to  consider  also 
the  fact  which  underlies  this  and  other  parts  of 
Scripture,  which  take  for  granted  that  the  world  was 
made  for  men  to  know  and  love  and  serve  God  in, 
and  which  look  for  suitable  surroundings  in  which 
to  exercise  these  functions  harmoniously. 

To  begin  with,  God  never  leaves  Himself  without 
witnesses,  and  there  are  always  even  in  the  worst  of 
times  men  who  have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal, 
and  who  are  in  sympathy  with  all  that  is  good  and 
who  rejoice  in  all  who  are  good.     Also,  in  the  hearts 


292     THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

of  all  men  there  are  instincts  and  capacities  that 
make  for  good;  so  that  in  all  our  folly  and  sinning 
God  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us.  We  were  made 
for  the  love  of  God,  and  even  when  we  reject  our 
true  destiny,  heart  and  conscience  will  not  be  com- 
pletely dulled ;  and  a  man  of  pure  heart  and  gracious 
lips  is  usually  recognised  as  living  as  we  all  ought  to 
live.  In  our  best  moments  we  would  like  to  have 
him  as  a  friend.  We  like  a  man  whom  we  can 
trust;  and  unless  our  nature  is  utterly  depraved  we 
prefer  such  a  man  to  have  a  place  of  power.  It  is 
said  of  one  of  the  Roman  Emperors,  when  Chris- 
tianity was  in  the  ascendency  but  had  not  com- 
pletely uprooted  paganism,  that  on  his  succession  to 
the  throne  he  threatened  to  dismiss  all  his  ministers 
and  servants  who  would  not  deny  their  Christian 
faith.  We  can  imagine  what  a  temptation  this 
would  be  to  courtiers  to  whom  court  favour  was  the 
breath  of  their  nostrils.  Only  a  few  were  faithful 
to  their  religion,  and  preferred  to  leave  the  sunshine 
of  the  court  rather  than  deny  their  Lord.  The  story 
goes  that  from  these  few  the  king  chose  his  chief 
ministers  and  reposed  on  them  unbounded  trust. 
Even  from  the  point  of  view  of  worldly  wisdom,  we 
would  say  that  the  king  showed  insight  apart  alto- 
gether from  his  own  opinions  about  religion.     The 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     293 

weak-kneed  sycophants  were  on  any  standard  con- 
temptible. Real  goodness  is  attractive  to  men  unless 
they  have  quite  killed  their  better  nature.  There  is 
something  winning  about  a  sincere,  sweet  soul,  trans- 
parent and  unselfish.  He  has  a  grace  of  lip  and  of 
life  that  lays  hold  of  us.  There  is  a  beauty  in  holi- 
ness, which  we  must  see  and  acknowledge  unless  we 
are  spiritually  as  blind  as  bats.  Something  speaks 
to  us  for  the  good  man.  An  upright,  genuine  char- 
acter is  winsome,  and  our  hearts  admit  the  charm. 

Of  course  there  is  a  goodness  which  is  not  attract- 
ive, a  formal,  stiff,  and  sometimes  a  self-righteous 
uprightness  which  repels,  a  professed  pureness  of 
heart  which  has  no  grace  of  lip.  Righteousness  may 
take  a  sour  and  ugly  form  which  irritates  and  re- 
pels. A  man  may  make  a  martyr  of  himself  for 
righteousness'  sake,  and  never  draw  a  tear  from  a 
single  eye.  A  man  may  stand  as  an  unwearied 
witness  for  truth,  and  never  a  heart  thrill  in  sym- 
pathetic response.  Religion  might  many  a  time 
ask  to  be  saved  from  its  friends.  There  is  so  often 
some  warp  in  the  grain  which  spoils  the  whole  piece, 
some  angularity  of  character  which  destroys  the 
influence  of  what  is  really  good;  and  religion  has 
to  bear  the  discredit.  It  is  well  for  us  who  take 
the  name  of  Christ  to  ask  ourselves  if  we  are  by 


294    THE    CHARM   OF   GOODNESS 

walk  and  conversation  commending  our  Master, 
making  His  life  attractive,  or  are  by  our  acrid 
temper  or  our  loveless  life  putting  stumbling-blocks 
in  the  v/ay  and  keeping  Him  from  drawing  men  to 
Himself.  If  we  are  misunderstood  and  persecuted 
for  our  faith  it  is  well,  first  of  all  before  we  condemn 
any,  to  make  sure  that  it  is  really  for  righteousness' 
sake,  and  not  through  some  fault  in  ourselves,  some 
failure  to  present  Christ  in  His  beauty,  some  flaw 
of  mind,  some  twist  of  nature,  which  induces  aver- 
sion. For  goodness  is  attractive,  whether  we  who 
take  it  upon  ourselves  to  represent  goodness  are  or 
not.  Even  the  most  hardened  sinner  will  sometimes 
be  touched  by  innocence.  A  little  child  can  lead 
us  all.  The  pure  in  heart  not  only  see  God  for 
themselves,  but  also  Convince  the  world  of  God. 

It  is  true  that  sometimes  righteousness  has  to 
appear  militant.  It  has  to  fight  against  princi- 
palities of  evil.  It  has  to  draw  the  sword  and  to 
divide  the  world  into  armed  camps.  It  has  to  stand 
up  against  other  men,  and  denounce  evil,  and  to 
appear  hard.  Sometimes  it  has  its  back  against  the 
Wall  fighting  for  life ;  but  even  then  admiration  is 
called  forth  in  the  breast  of  every  brave  man.  We 
love  a  man,  a  true,  clean-blooded,  sincere  man.  Be- 
sides, goodness  is  not  always  seen  in  revolt,  in  mill- 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     295 

tant  guise.  It  oftener  has  scope  for  the  gentler 
virtues,  patience,  charity,  kindness.  And  every  one 
who  has  eyes  to  see  is  attracted  by  it  most  in  its 
softer  moods.  Its  gentleness  makes  it  great.  The 
man  of  pure  heart  and  gracious  lips  may  have 
enemies,  but  he  does  not  lack  for  friends.  We  speak 
of  the  hatred  our  Lord  experienced  on  earth,  but 
He  also  tasted  of  human  love.  Men  were  drawn  to 
Him,  left  all  to  follow  Him,  lived  for  Him  in  spite 
of  all  their  weakness,  and  died  for  Him.  He  grap- 
pled men's  hearts  to  Him  with  hoops  of  steel. 
Sinners  living  in  wilful  rebellion  to  the  religion  of 
the  time  poured  out  their  devoted  love  on  Him.  The 
beauty  and  nobility  and  tenderness  of  His  life 
touched  crowds  into  new  hope  and  new  faith.  His 
disciples  who  had  something  of  His  method  and 
His  mind  had  also  something  of  His  success.  The 
grace  of  their  lips  brought  them  friends  and  ad- 
herents. St.  Paul  in  prison  was  followed  by  the 
prayers  and  love  of  devoted  hearts.  The  Gospel 
made  its  way  against  the  might  of  Rome  through 
the  attractive  power  of  goodness,  through  the  appre- 
ciation of  the  beauty  of  holiness.  Not  by  might 
nor  by  power  but  by  the  weakness  of  love  were  the 
great  things  of  the  world  brought  to  nought. 

Is  it  not  one  of  the  lessons  of  lif  e^  if  only  we  were 


296     THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

wise  enough  to  comprehend  it,  that  injustice,  evil, 
selfishness,  is  a  mistake?  Besides  the  guilt  of  sin, 
which  blackens  a  man's  heart,  there  is  also  the  folly 
of  sin.  Besides  being  a  stain,  it  is  also  a  source  of 
weakness.  It  not  only  separates  a  man  from  God, 
but  also  separates  him  from  his  fellow-men.  In  the 
long  run  we  find  out  the  man  of  guile,  the  crooked 
shifty  character,  on  whom  no  reliance  can  be  placed. 
In  the  long  run  we  detest  the  evil  speaker  and  back- 
biter, however  clever  his  cynical  judgments  at  first 
appear.  The  cruel  and  proud  and  contemptuous 
man  can  be  no  real  favourite  of  men.  We  believe 
with  Bacon  that  without  good-nature  man  is  but  a 
better  kind  of  vermin.  Unless  our  moral  taste  is 
vitiated  we  feel  the  winsome  charm  of  goodness,  the 
sweet  beauty  of  a  Christian  character.  We  give  our 
judgment  and  affection  to  the  man  who  loves  pure- 
ness  of  heart;  and  for  the  grace  of  his  lips  we  would 
fain  be  his  friend.  We  appreciate  the  man  of  fine 
grain,  who  lives  in  a  world  of  peace  and  purity  and 
noble  thought.  In  some  we  have  seen  and  loved 
the  beauty  of  goodness  and  the  attraction  of  gracious 
lips. 

It  is  unconsciously  that  the  good  man  wins 
favour.  He  does  not  make  human  favour  his  end, 
or  he  would  cease  to  be  good.     The  moment  self- 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     297 

consciousness  comes  in,  the  picture  is  spoiled. 
Trickery,  smug  conceit,  and  the  hateful  arts  of  man- 
agement creep  in.  The  standard  is  at  once  lowered 
when  men  become  eye-servants,  and  men-pleasers. 
But  the  empire  over  hearts  is  given  to  the  humble 
sincere  soul ;  not  to  ambition  and  selfishness  but  to 
love  and  sacrifice,  to  the  pure  heart  and  gracious 
lips.  The  blessing  of  goodness,  therefore,  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  man  himself.  Others  participate  in  it. 
Its  influence  is  cumulative.  It  blesses  his  neighbours 
and  friends,  his  children  and  his  children's  children. 
It  is  also  a  social  good,  a  store  of  wealth  for  the 
whole  community.  It  is  of  national  importance. 
A  man  cannot  better  serve  his  country  than  by 
being  a  good  man.  Even  the  king,  if  he  could  only 
know  of  it,  would  rejoice;  for  every  good  man  is  a 
strength  to  the  body  politic,  as  every  evil  man  is  a 
weakness.  If  the  king  is  not  his  friend,  he  is  the 
king's  true  friend. 

This  argument  of  our  text  is  thus  a  legitimate  one, 
but  it  is  not  the  final  argument.  All  this  would  only 
be  at  the  best  an  argument  of  prudence.  In  ordinary 
circumstances  and  as  a  general  rule  we  might  hold 
that  honesty  is  the  best  policy;  still  that  does  not 
take  us  very  far.  Goodness  needs  a  higher  sanction 
than   prudence.      It   needs   to    be    made    religious. 


298    THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

Prudence  might  be  an  argument  fof  grace  of  lips  but 
not  for  i^ureness  of  heart.  It  would  at  the  best 
result  in  outward  propriety,  and  in  formal  goodness. 
It  would  be  righteousness,  not  holiness,  and  it  is 
holiness  that  God  asks,  an  inward  relationship  not 
mere  outward  correctness  of  conduct.  Then  again, 
supposing  tribulation  comes,  supposing  wickedness 
prospers  and  righteousness  is  oppressed,  supposing 
men  were  not  friends  of  the  good  man  but  enemies, 
the  feet  would  be  cut  from  the  position  if  it  had  not 
deeper  foundation.  Supposing  the  king  is  not 
good,  supposing  it  is  not  David  on  the  throne  but 
Manasseh,  not  a  Marcus  Aurelius  but  a  Nero,  sup- 
posing he  surrounds  himself  with  evil  counsellors, 
supposing  the  state  of  society  makes  against  religion, 
and  the  men  in  authority  hate  goodness  and  there- 
fore would  like  to  justify  themselves  by  frowning 
on  all  who  have  a  higher  standard  than  themselves, 
what  then  ?  We  can  see  that  the  argument  of  this 
proverb  is  not  infallible. 

But  the  Bible  takes  higher  ground  than  prudence. 
Even  in  the  Proverbs  the  foundations  of  goodness 
are  built  deeper  than  the  favour  of  man.  It  is 
judged  according  to  how  God  looks  on  it.  "A  good 
man  obtaineth  favour  of  the  Lord."  That  is  its  true 
justification,  and  its  true  reward.    Even  if  righteous- 


THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS     299 

ness  is  met  with  persecution,  even  if  all  men  are 
against  it,  even  if  the  king  does  not  reward  it, 
oven  then  it  is  the  true  wisdom.  It  is  a  great 
loss  when  the  social  conditions  do  not  lend  the 
weight  of  their  influence  on  the  side  of  good. 
Just  laws,  right  ways  of  thinking  in  the  community, 
the  smile  of  authority,  are  all  possible  allies  for 
God,  and  can  be  used  to  strengthen  religion.  But 
there  is  a  higher  standard,  unaffected  by  change. 
A  man  might  be  helped  to  large  endeavour  and 
gracious  life  by  the  thought  that  his  king's  eye  was 
on  him.  Let  him  be  so  inspired,  for  it  is  so.  The 
sense  of  responsibility  which  the  king's  favour  ought 
to  bring  should  be  ours.  In  George  Herbert's  noble 
line  we  can  lift  up  our  head  with  the  dignity  of  a 
great  charge  imposed  on  us — 

Think  the  king  sees  thee  still ;  for  his  King  does, 

"Who  is  he  that  will  harm  you,"  asks  St.  Peter,  "if 
ye  be  followers  of  that  which  is  good  ?"  To  put  our- 
selves on  the  side  of  God  is  to  have  God  on  our  side. 
He  that  loveth  pureness  of  heart  for  the  grace  of  his 
lips  the  King,  the  King  of  kings,  shall  be  his  friend, 
and  never  again  can  we  be  friendless;  never  again 
can  we  be  alone,  though  all  the  world  forsake  us; 
for  the  Father  is  with  us.     To  be  in  harmony  with 


300     THE    CHARM    OF    GOODNESS 

God  brings  you  into  harmony  with  all  creation.  To 
be  reconciled  to  God  is  to  be  open  to  all  other  recon- 
ciliations. To  have  peace  with  God  is  to  become  a 
peace-maker  among  men.  And  who  can  harm  you 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Eternal  wing  ?  "Thou  shalt 
be  in  league  with  the  stones  of  the  field,  and  the 
beasts  of  the  field  shall  be  at  peace  with  thee." 


XXVII 
THE    THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

And  when  He  was  come  near,  He  beheld  the  city,  and  wept  over  it, 
saying,  If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  tn  this  thy  day,  the 
things  which  belong  to  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyes. — St.  Luke  xix.  42. 

The  Saviour's  tears  were  a  startling  contrast  to  the 
scene  of  rejoicing  to  which  this  incident  is  appended. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Triumphal  Entry  when 
all  were  exulting  and  shouts  of  hallelujah  thrilled 
the  air.  The  simple  pious  hearts  of  the  disciples 
were  glad  at  this  evident  acceptance  of  their  Master, 
and  they  anticipated  a  speedy  capture  of  Jerusalem 
itself  for  Christ  when  His  cause  would  lay  hold  of 
the  whole  nation  and  great  and  glorious  events 
would  ensue.  They  hardly  knew  what  exactly 
they  expected,  but  in  any  case  it  was  to  he  a  mighty 
triumph  for  Christ,  and  salvation  for  Israel.  But  as 
the  joyful  procession  swept  round  the  shoulder 
of  the  hill,  and  the  fair  city  gleamed  into  sight,  a 
hush  came  over  the  exulting  throng;  for  the  Lord 
was  weeping.    He  had  no  bright  and  futile  illusions. 

301 


302   THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

A  wave  of  excitement  like  that  which  had  trans- 
ported the  disciples  could  not  blind  Him  to  the 
actual  facts  of  the  case.  He  knew  that  He  had 
lived,  and  would  die,  in  vain,  so  far  as  that  hard 
and  proud  capital  was  concerned.  He  knew  that 
He  was  rejected  of  rulers  and  people ;  and  that  ears 
and  hearts  were  deaf  to  His  message.  As  He  looked 
at  the  beautiful  citj  it  was  not  with  pride  but  with 
anguish,  What  a  history  of  divine  grace  was  repre- 
sented there  within  these  walls,  the  long  story  of 
God's  love  and  patience — and  its  failure !  Every 
tender  and  gracious  page  of  that  story  stood  out  as 
a  witness  against  the  folly  and  ingratitude  and  sin 
of  man.  There  were  hearts  there  as  hard  as  the 
stones  of  their  walls.  The  divine  love  brooded  over 
them  with  patient  pity.  They  were  blind,  as  their 
fathers  had  been  blind,  to  all  the  mercy  and  loving- 
kindness  of  God,  regardless  of  their  day  of  gracious 
visitation.  "O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  which 
killest  the  prophets  and  stonest  them  that  are  sent 
unto  thee;  how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
children  together  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not." 

The  Redeemer  knew  that  His  way  in  that  city 
was  the  way  of  the  cross.  He  knew  that  city  and 
nation  were  doomed.     They  had  had  their  day  of 


THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT   303 

visitation,  and  were  still  having  it — but  the  sands 
were  fast  running  out.  In  compassionate  grief  He 
yearned  over  them  still,  weeping  for  their  blindness 
and  hardness  of  heart.  What  a  pathetic  scene  is 
here  recalled  to  our  imagination!  The  gay  and 
careless  city  smiling  in  the  sunlight,  with  eager 
crowds  of  busy  men,  full  of  their  interests  and 
pleasures,  full  of  their  great  religious  celebration 
about  to  be  kept — and  the  Saviour  looking  down  on 
it  all,  weeping.  They  were  throwing  away  their  last 
chance,  following  false  lights,  and  dreaming  false 
hopes,  seeking  false  sources  of  peace,  stopping  their 
ears  against  the  voice  of  wisdom  and  of  love.  "If 
thou  hadst  known  in  this  thy  day  the  things  that 
belong  to  thy  peace !  but  now  they  are  hid  from 
thine  eyes." 

It  was,  as  we  clearly  see  now,  the  day  of  their 
visitation,  a  day  of  grace,  when  they  might  have 
laid  deep  the  true  foundations  of  a  strong  national 
life,  and  when  they  might  have  made  their  own 
lives  rich  with  spiritual  contents.  Jesus  had  been 
teaching  the  way  of  life,  the  way  of  God  for  man. 
He  had  pointed  them  to  the  inward  source  of  all 
strength  and  joy  and  peace  both  for  the  nation  and 
for  individuals.  He  showed  them  that  the  one  weak- 
ness of  a  nation  is  sin,  and  the  one  bondage  of  a 


304  THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

man  is  sin.  They  refused  to  listen  to  the  things 
that  really  belonged  to  their  peace,  and  looked  for  it 
in  their  own  schemes.  Their  political  ideals  never 
went  farther  than  what  ministered  to  national  vanity 
and  empty  pride  of  race.  Factional  strife  and  par- 
tisan feeling,  with  petty  plans  all  bounded  by  revolt 
against  the  yoke  of  Rome.  Their  religious  ideals 
were  similar,  all  external  in  aim,  looking  for  the 
establishment  of  a  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  form  of  a 
Jewish  world-empire.  Christ's  word  could  not  even 
be  understood  by  them  when  He  said,  "The  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  is  within  you."  They  rejected  His  teach- 
ing and  rejected  Himself,  and  did  not  know  that 
they  were  refusing  their  one  and  only  hope.  He 
came  to  His  own,  to  fulfil  their  true  history  and 
destiny,  to  fulfil  the  aspirations  of  prophets  and 
saints  of  their  race,  but  His  o^vn  received  Him  not. 
He  was  the  Life  and  the  Light  of  men,  but  they 
were  blind  to  the  light,  preferred  the  darkness  rather 
than  the  light  because  their  deeds  were  evil.  It  was 
judicial  blindness,  the  result  of  a  long  course  of  moral 
perversity.  They  made  choice  of  the  lower,  when 
the  higher  was  within  their  reach,  and  were  without 
insight  to  distinguish  and  recognise  the  day  of  visi- 
tation. Our  Lord's  lament  was  the  same  as  the 
prophet's  lament  to  their  fathers,  with   the   same 


THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT   305 

passion  and  pity,  "O  that  tliou  hadst  hearkened 
to  my  commandments,  then  had  thy  peace  been  as  a 
river  and  thy  righteousness  as  the  waves  of  the  sea." 
If  they  had  only  known  that  their  day  of  grace  was 
passing,  passing,  had  almost  passed.  If  thou  hadst 
known  in  this  thy  day  the  things  that  belong  to 
thy  peace !  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes. 

If  ive  hnew!  We  too  have  a  day  of  grace,  a  day 
of  sweet  and  hopeful  visitation.  There  are  things 
that  belong  to  our  peace,  and  they  are  the  same 
things  as  ever.  There  can  be  in  us  the  same  judicial 
blindness,  the  same  moral  perversity  that  hid  them 
from  the  eyes  of  the  Jews  of  old.  Can  the  divine 
love  look  down  on  us  with  anything  else  than  tears, 
as  we  pour  out  the  treasures  of  our  hearts  on  things 
that  profit  nothing,  as  we  blunderingly  and  yet 
wilfully  pursue  our  foolish  courses  ? 

How  we  mistake  the  things  that  really  belong 
to  our  peace,  the  things  that  alone  count!  What 
of  all  the  things  we  do  and  seek  can  be  put  in 
this  class  as  the  essentially  important  things  that 
affect  our  real  welfare  ?  There  is  eagerness  in  the 
city  to-day  as  in  Jerusalem,  keenly  followed  pur- 
suits, plans,  and  purposes  actively  and  relentlessly 
engaged  in,  business,  ambition,  pleasure,  knowledge. 


306   THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

There  is  plenty  of  strenuous  life  in  our  midst,  and 
men  are  everywhere  in  ceaseless  quest  of  the  things 
they  imagine  count  most,  the  things  that  belong  to 
their  peace  and  joy.  Everybody  is  after  something, 
spending  strength  and  labour  and  desire  to  attain 
their  end.  We  can  guess  at  the  aims  and  ambitions 
of  many  if  we  are  observant;  if  we  are  honest  we 
can  know  what  our  own  pursuits  are,  the  things  we 
really  desire  and  follow  after,  the  things  we  think 
count  the  most,  the  things  we  imagine  belong  to  our 
peace  and  happiness.  What  of  all  these  purposes  can 
be  dignified  by  the  title  of  our  text  as  belonging  to 
real  peace?  What  of  them  viewed  from  the  stand- 
point of  eternity  are  as  strength  spent  for  naught,  and 
labour  for  that  which  profiteth  nothing  ? 

Some  of  the  pursuits  that  would  be  included  in 
such  a  catalogue  are  confessedly  evil.  Even  those 
who  follow  them  most  eagerly  would  not  attempt  to 
defend  them  as  the  highest,  and  if  they  stopped  to 
think  they  would  own  that  such  things  cannot  ulti- 
mately belong  to  peace.  There  are  sinful  pleasures, 
sinful  selfishness,  evil  ambitions  that  all  would  label 
as  certain  to  end  in  misery.  But  what  of  the  many 
innocent  pursuits  that  have  nothing  gross  or  debas- 
ing in  themselves?  The  question  to  be  asked  of 
them  is  not,  are  they  merely  innocent  but  are  they 


THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT   307 

sufficient?  Many  of  the  common  aims  that  motive 
life  amongst  us  are  not  in  themselves  evil.  Success 
is  good,  labour  is  good,  a  happy  home  is  good,  knowl- 
edge is  good,  delight  in  friendship  is  good,  artistic 
capacity  is  good,  business  energy  is  good.  But  are 
any  or  all  of  these  things  sufficient,  are  they  enough 
in  life  and  in  death,  do  they  belong  to  our  eternal 
peace?  It  must  surely  be  confessed  that  most  of 
the  things  most  sedulously  pursued  do  not  matter 
essentially.  Go  over  them  in  detail.  Take  any 
common  ambition  you  like — your  own  or  another 
man's — and  judge  it  from  this  standpoint,  the  haste 
to  be  rich,  the  desire  to  make  a  name  or  found  a 
family,  or  the  common  aim  to  have  a  pleasant  time. 
I  need  not  take  them  one  by  one  to  show  the  hollow- 
ness  of  each  and  the  failure  of  each  as  an  adequate 
and  sufficient  end  for  a  human  soul.  All  such  ex- 
ternal things  are  outside  the  real  issues  of  life. 
The  world  can  give  them,  and  the  world  can  take 
them  away.  They  do  not  belong  to  our  peace :  they 
do  not  belong  to  our  selves.  They  are  not  the  things 
that  really  matter. 

We  can  see  this  clearly  and  convincingly  if  we 
ask  what  they  will  mean  for  us  at  the  last.  The 
ultimate,  the  inevitable  test  of  life  is  death.  We 
may  shut  our  eyes  to  it:  we  may  act  as  though  it 


308   THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

were  not  and  could  never  be.  But  that  after  all  is 
the  one  certainty,  and  no  plan  of  life  can  be  more 
than  a  makeshift  which  does  not  take  it  into  account. 
"What  will  ye  do  in  the  end  thereof?"  asks  the 
prophet,  and  surely  it  is  a  pertinent  and  a  reasona- 
ble question.  Things  that  have  no  place  and  no  value 
when  viewed  in  the  light  of  eternity  cannot  be 
among  those  things  that  belong  to  our  peace.  If  we 
have  no  life  of  the  soul,  no  reach  into  the  unseen, 
no  citizenship  in  heaven,  no  intercourse  with  the 
spiritual  world,  no  sympathy  even  with  things  eter- 
nal: then,  in  spite  of  all  our  getting  and  striving 
and  learning,  we  shall  be  at  the  last  poor  and  naked 
and  blind  and  miserable,  though  we  know  it  not  now. 
These  are  the  things  that  alone  count,  the  things 
that  belong  to  our  peace.  If  all  our  purposes  and 
pursuits  must  perforce  stop  on  this  side  of  the  river, 
if  they  are  stripped  from  us  and  leave  us  naked  before 
death  and  the  judgment,  it  is  judicial  blindness  in 
us  as  tragic  as  the  Jews'  to  follow  such  things  with 
eagerness  and  neglect  the  things  that  belong  to  our 
peace.  Could  not  the  Saviour  weep  over  us  as  He 
wept  over  them  ? 

If  we  had  known!  What  vain  regrets  many  a 
man  has  at  the  end  of  life  that  he  should  have  been 
blind  to  the  things  that  alone  count.     Many  a  man 


THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT   309 

has  wished  he  might  live  over  again  that  he  might 
imdo  the  past  and  let  the  important  things  have 
their  due  proportion  in  his  life.  Sometimes  the 
remorse  has  been  despair,  not  merely  the  cry  of 
ignorance  which  says  If  only  I  had  known!  but 
the  cry  of  anguish  for  opportunities  that  have  been 
wilfully  lost,  for  a  blindness  that  has  been  moral 
perversity. 

When  vain  desire  at  last  and  vain  regret 
Go  hand  in  hand  to  death  and  all  is  vain, 
What  shall  assuage  the  unforgotten  pain 
And  teach  the  unforgetful  to  forget  ? 

If  we  had  known!  But  we  do  know:  we  should 
know:  we  can  know.  Our  hearts  tell  us  that  the 
things  that  belong  to  our  peace  are  not  the  things 
we  are  striving  for  and  sinning  for.  We  may  be 
suffering  from  the  judicial  blindness  which  hides  the 
better  part  from  our  eyes.  We  too  may  be  despising 
or  neglecting  the  time  of  our  visitation ;  but  the  sands 
have  not  yet  all  run  out.  Be  sure  it  is  a  time  of 
visitation,  a  day  of  grace,  the  day  of  the  Lord.  And 
He  summons  us  to  a  new  life  with  other  ambitions 
and  desires  and  hopes.  If  we  go  with  Him,  if  we 
live  with  Him,  if  we  make  our  home  in  the  things 
of  the  spirit,  we  will  not  be  at  the  last  tortured 
with  vain  desires  and  vain  regrets. 


310   THINGS    THAT    ALONE    COUNT 

If  we  had  known!  But  do  we  not  know?  The 
things  that  really  count  now  are  the  things  that  will 
count  at  the  last.  The  things  that  belong  to  our 
true  peace  now  are  the  things  that  will  Ijelong  to 
our  peace  then.  Make  a  forecast  of  how  you  would 
like  to  die,  with  what  gains  of  character  and  what 
growth  in  grace,  and  what  familiarity  with  the  un- 
seen and  eternal,  what  peace  of  a  good  conscience, 
rich  with  the  spoils  of  life,  rich  in  faith  and  love 
and  hope.  Are  the  things  that  will  belong  to  your 
peace  the  very  things  which  to-day  you  are  neglect- 
ing? If  these  things  are  done  in  the  green  tree, 
what  will  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  If  you  forecast  hon- 
estly the  vain  desires  at  the  last,  you  can  forestall  the 
vain  regrets.  The  things  that  alone  count  are  the 
things  that  belong  to  thine  eternal  peace.  Amid 
the  tinsel  and  the  glitter,  amid  the  specious  show  of 
the  trivial,  amid  the  maze  of  side-issues  and  the  false 
pretensions  of  the  countless  things  that  are  of  no 
account,  amid  the  allurement  of  brief  passion,  re- 
member the  things  that  belong  to  thy  peace.  O  my 
soul,  remember ! 

THE  END 


Date  Due          ^MSBm^rpi 

At  -.    46 

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